As I sit here catching my breath, with Tony come and gone, and the
tiniest space made by the removal of old shelving units about to be filled by
the arrival of new shelves brought by my brother, I reflect on how moving used
to be easier. Sure, there are always logistic hassles to overcome in any moving
endeavor: renting a U-Haul, bribing enough friends so that the work doesn’t
take days, scheduling it all to fall in that brief window when you have access
to both locales and authority to come and go as you will, but I’m just talking
about physical fatigue. Moving in and of itself used to be easier!
We’re emptying out my parent’s house in preparation for sale.
Everything needs a place and each of us is taking in all we can. Marty’s
bringing me down a set of bookshelves, and a dresser, and a sewing machine, and
an end table, and TV stand and a TV among many other things. I would’ve had to
hire movers – as my sisters planned to do – but Marty wouldn’t have it. He got giant
U-Haul enlisted some youthful muscle and took it upon himself. When he gets
here, all I’ll be able to do is watch and perhaps move things out of their way.
I made the mistake of helping him carry a monk’s bench to his car earlier in
the week and it aggravated a hernia and caused me cramps for days. Jill’s in
little better shape, complaining of twinges in her sides whenever she over
exerts. We talk about yoga and physical action plans to correct the downward
course of our physical trajectory. “Yeah… We should really get on that.”
Was it really so long ago, when Tony and Tonya moved down from Fairfield
with Bobby and we divided the third floor up to accommodate them? I remember
carrying a TV in from the truck all by myself. It can’t have been very recent
since the TV wasn’t some simple flat screen, but rather a bulky CRT. Only 24” but
I barely heaved it through the door alone even then. I immediately dropped it
on the couch and went in search of water and someone to bitch at about how I
was deteriorating. Little did I know…
Every year things get heavier, and new aches and pains assail my
frail form. Sometimes when the weather is right my knee will ache for hours,
and if I don’t stay hydrated, I get awful cramps in my shins that wake me out of
what passes for “sound” sleep these days. I’m falling apart, but I’ve always
felt like that, I guess. My 40-year-old self wasn’t up to the level of my 30-year-old
self, my 30-year-old self wasn’t up to the level of my 20-year-old, and my 20-year-old
self was a lazy tub!
As I lamented my sorry state to Tony about moving the TV alone and
having to abandon it just inside the door, so my back didn’t give out, I suddenly
remember something very important. Tony was in the kitchen setting up the iguana
cage as I was kvetching about my poor body. His disinterested grunts made me
wonder what he had to be so interested about otherwise. Some stupid cage…
Iguana cage…
“Oh shit!” I exclaimed aloud and raced to the front of the house. This
got Tony’s attention and he followed wondering what could cause me to move with
such energy. There was no time to explain.
You see, earlier when they had first arrived, Tony had handed me a
pillow case that was tied shut. Something warm writhed within, and I quickly
realized it contained the newest animal addition to my household. Rex (later re-sexed
and named, Regina. See earlier story, “About a Pet…” for more on Rex) an iguana
that Tony was taking care of while Karl, her real owner, got a place of his
own. Not knowing what to do with the critter until her cage was set up, I dropped
the pillowcase on the couch, the same couch where I had dropped the TV! Nearly
in tears, I heaved the television aside, certain I had crushed my friend’s pet
and inaugurated our new living arrangement with about the most ill omen
imaginable. The pillowcase was still as I picked it up. I furiously tore at the
knot, but when it opened, I found the bug-eyed lizard none the worse for wear.
Apparently, it’s flexible body and the couch cushions provided enough give for
her to survive unscathed. I exhaled a long sigh of utter relief and sank to the
floor holding the struggling lizard to my chest. Her tiny claws scratched my
face and arms, but it was no less than I deserved.
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