I’m a good son. Today I helped my mum and dad move house, and did a damn good job of it too, even if I do say so myself. We emptied one house and moved their stuff into another in just under three hours. I shifted boxes, mattresses, cabinets, TVs, PCs, shelves, drawers, plantpots…you name it, chances are I’ve carried/dragged/been crushed half to death by it today. At one point I was even dodging a falling wooden camel with a spring in the neck.
As a result of all this, I swear there isn’t a square centimetre of me that isn’t in agony right now, and it’s only going to get worse tomorrow. Tomorrow I have to go be in a picture of a group of friends so we can give a framed photo as a gift. I just hope my better half doesn’t have to stick a broom handle up the back of my shirt just to get me to stand upright.
Fuck. Me. I think it even hurts to type.
March 27th, 2006 at 1:58 pm
but it’s a good sort of pain, right? That sort of “I did something great for my loved ones” kind of pain.
March 27th, 2006 at 7:16 pm
No, it was the dull, persistent, unpleasant pain of “lifted too many heavy things and now I think I might have a hernia” – that sort of pain! :-)
March 27th, 2006 at 9:37 pm
oh – well that kind of painn sucks.