More Bear Than Brains

Carried a dining table (yes: carried, as in by hand) from our house to my studio on Sunday morning, a distance of 1.2 kilometres. A big thank you to the low, wrought-iron fence on Cherry Street, the cement front steps at the corner of Division and Main, and the several fire hydrants which allowed me to set down a corner and take the weight off, if only momentarily.

And *why* was I hauling a table across the Sunday morning cityscape like some kind of apocalypse-shocked peasant? Because C finally found her new dining room set, on Saturday afternoon, at a store downtown. Not only that but, on the way home from Oona's swimming time, C bought some orchids that she'd been (apparently) thinking about all week. Banner day! Screw you Christmas! Needless to say, however, that the old dining room table, which must have most egregiously slandered *someone* at *some* point to earn so much malice, had to go. Immediately.

Ah, the things I've schlepped this past year. Like the six-foot Christmas tree from the corner of Bath and Princess (2.1 kilometres). Or the night I carried home an 8 by 4 foot banquet table from my former studio (1.2 kilometres). Or my seven-foot iron easle. Never mind the various chairs, boxes and about a thousand bags of groceries (and hundreds of gallons of wine).

All of which begs the question: why am I not skinnier?

C says I look disheveled. Rumpled.

The unwanted new/old table looks great in the studio, though. I tightened up the legs and it's very sturdy. And it's a welcome replacement for the paint-splattered card table that I was using before.

(I had bought the card table -- after a long search, not a lot of places carry card tables anymore -- when I was going out with a girl I'll call X. My apartment had a small kitchen, so we usually ate in the living room coffee table while watching television. Trouble was, X could not negotiate the distance from her plate to her mouth. She was like a fish at the bottom of the boat trying to spoonfeed itself oxygen. I couldn't stand it. I got the card table so we could set it up in the living room. I'm sure we used it at least once. I think.)

Anyway, all of this just to say that if you need a trunk or a piano or a desiccated corpse moved in the middle of the night and you don't want to hire a truck (or the mob), I just might be your man.

Postscript: I should say thank you, as well, to whoever smashed the beer bottle at the street-level entrance to the studio. I see you're drinking Stella Artois now, you upscale rapscallion you. And one last thank you to the tike-sized blonde woman who interrupted my going-to-get-coffee, Sunday-morning thoughts with an exuberant Jesus loves you, sir!. That's good to know, considering how he's never returned any of my calls.

Oh: and today's word is habit.


  1. oh! so you are in the business of moving?! i want to ditch our huge old heavy oak dining room table and well, now i clearly know who to call!

    glad you have upgraded your card table. that sounds rickety and rotten.

  2. p.s. love the bears. they are just wonderful!


Post a Comment

Popular Posts