Pick-Ups, Deliveries, and Massages
I went to get the twenty-five fifty-pound bags of alpaca chow this afternoon around 2 o'clock. I loaded them into the back of my Explorer by myself, then unloaded them when I got home. Just as I finished (it really was perfect timing) I saw a delivery semi go past with my Uline shelves. I knew I had about five minutes before he turned around (MapQuest has my house past where it actually is, and even though it's clearly marked, people making deliveries always zip right on past), so I went inside and locked my dog in the tv room. On the way in I noticed a beautiful floral delivery from Amy, which I opened, and put in my kitchen (white orchids which MIGHT survive my bastard cat Fergus). We texted briefly and I promised to call when the shelves were in the basement.
The delivery guy had been, apparently, a share cropper in Mt. Washington, and knew everyone in the area. He also decided to bond with me about my divorce. As he was handing me one particularly heavy box (the shelves weighed, in total, fifteen-hundred pounds) he actually said to me, "Whelp, if they dint have pussies, they'd all have bounties on'ere heads." I didn't know what to say to that.
He handed the boxes to me out of the back of his semi and I put them into the back of my Explorer. When I'd filled it to capacity he turned to get the nine boxes of wood shelving. I thought I'd lifted the heavy stuff already, but I was wrong. I took them from him and stacked them on the grass by the driveway, wondering all the while if I would actually be able to pick them up again. When he finally left (muttering, "She fucks every man in the neighborhood and still gets the fucking house,") I drove to my front door and started unloading. I was exhausted before I started, and paused briefly to "rest" (which means I scooped the kitty litter in the basement). I drove back to the nine boxes and started lifting. They were a lot heavier than I remembered. I wrestled those damn things into the car at 4:13 and managed to get the last one in by 4:45. I let the dog outside and staggered upstairs to take a quick shower. I let Nefret in on my way out and drove much faster than I should have into St. Matthews in order to make my massage appointment at 5:30. I called Amy on the way and talked to her about my lifting two-thousand-seven-hundred-fifty pounds, twice, and she was sweetly horrified for the state of my muscles.
I haven't had a massage since late last year when my then massage therapist started telling people I was cheating on Emily (I still have no idea where this came from) and since I've started working out again (and after such a nightmare day) I was looking forward to it. Peg at Milestone fitness was really wonderful. She didn't go as deep as I'm used to, but it's not a good idea to hit the ground running after such a long period of time away from massage. She was only half the cost I was used to, and released some pain and tension, so I made another appointment for one of my days off from recording the Mungus album.
About the album... I'm going to blog about each day, though I don't know if I'll be able to connect while at the studio. If I can't, I'll write during the day post at night. I'll be posting an edited version at the Mungus MySpace page, but you, dear readers, will get the unadulterated version here.
I'm off to take a muscle relaxer. And drink something stronger than water.
I went to get the twenty-five fifty-pound bags of alpaca chow this afternoon around 2 o'clock. I loaded them into the back of my Explorer by myself, then unloaded them when I got home. Just as I finished (it really was perfect timing) I saw a delivery semi go past with my Uline shelves. I knew I had about five minutes before he turned around (MapQuest has my house past where it actually is, and even though it's clearly marked, people making deliveries always zip right on past), so I went inside and locked my dog in the tv room. On the way in I noticed a beautiful floral delivery from Amy, which I opened, and put in my kitchen (white orchids which MIGHT survive my bastard cat Fergus). We texted briefly and I promised to call when the shelves were in the basement.
The delivery guy had been, apparently, a share cropper in Mt. Washington, and knew everyone in the area. He also decided to bond with me about my divorce. As he was handing me one particularly heavy box (the shelves weighed, in total, fifteen-hundred pounds) he actually said to me, "Whelp, if they dint have pussies, they'd all have bounties on'ere heads." I didn't know what to say to that.
He handed the boxes to me out of the back of his semi and I put them into the back of my Explorer. When I'd filled it to capacity he turned to get the nine boxes of wood shelving. I thought I'd lifted the heavy stuff already, but I was wrong. I took them from him and stacked them on the grass by the driveway, wondering all the while if I would actually be able to pick them up again. When he finally left (muttering, "She fucks every man in the neighborhood and still gets the fucking house,") I drove to my front door and started unloading. I was exhausted before I started, and paused briefly to "rest" (which means I scooped the kitty litter in the basement). I drove back to the nine boxes and started lifting. They were a lot heavier than I remembered. I wrestled those damn things into the car at 4:13 and managed to get the last one in by 4:45. I let the dog outside and staggered upstairs to take a quick shower. I let Nefret in on my way out and drove much faster than I should have into St. Matthews in order to make my massage appointment at 5:30. I called Amy on the way and talked to her about my lifting two-thousand-seven-hundred-fifty pounds, twice, and she was sweetly horrified for the state of my muscles.
I haven't had a massage since late last year when my then massage therapist started telling people I was cheating on Emily (I still have no idea where this came from) and since I've started working out again (and after such a nightmare day) I was looking forward to it. Peg at Milestone fitness was really wonderful. She didn't go as deep as I'm used to, but it's not a good idea to hit the ground running after such a long period of time away from massage. She was only half the cost I was used to, and released some pain and tension, so I made another appointment for one of my days off from recording the Mungus album.
About the album... I'm going to blog about each day, though I don't know if I'll be able to connect while at the studio. If I can't, I'll write during the day post at night. I'll be posting an edited version at the Mungus MySpace page, but you, dear readers, will get the unadulterated version here.
I'm off to take a muscle relaxer. And drink something stronger than water.