Further proof that I am getting old...I just ache this evening. The first of three boxes arrived today. The delivery people didn't call first, as they were supposed to, so I got a mildly irate call from the building's super at 11 a.m. informing me that our sealift had arrived and it was in the emergency lane. By the way, emergency lane is a nebulous term. It was dropped in a snowbank near the door.
That meant I had to go and clean out the box as quickly as possible. Which was about 500 pounds of stuff that I had to move myself since Cathy was still at work (as an unemployed bum, I have to earn my keep somehow. Manual labour it is).
And then, just to add to matters, I had to get rid of the wooden crate it all came in. I meant to photograph it, but in the craziness never had a chance. So that mean borrowing a crowbar and taking it apart board by board. That took about two hours and probably provided the same number of hours of amusement from people watching in the government offices as I generally didn't have a clue as to what I was doing.
Then I had to drive all the wood to the dump. The fact that I didn't gouge myself on a rusty nail borders on the miraculous.
The sad thing is there is about 1,600 pounds of food coming sometime in the next two days. I'm going to be a cripple at the end of this.