Ode To The Hand Cart

We have finally reached the end of THE move. THE final move. THE horrific move. THE killer move. As I’ve said before, minimizing your life isn’t for sissies, especially when you try to do it all at once! Lesson learned, plan ahead and take small bites as to protect your sanity and your life!

Yes, I know, it does sound a bit dramatic, let me assure you it was and still is. Healing takes its own time, I’ve found no way to rush that part of the process.

Guess I should explain my present frame of mind by starting at the first meeting of the murderous hand cart.

I had parked the moving truck at the gate and was climbing out when an angel, cleverly disguised as a neighbor, crossed the street to see if I wanted his help. Believe me, moving makes us all humble, so of course I took him up on his offer. Immediately he turned to retrieve his hand cart, his very durable red hand cart.

Soon it was late afternoon and the truck was impeccably loaded when my helper finally called it a day. As a considerate thought he left the hand cart with me, trusting me to know how to handle it. I had no doubts as to my own expertise. However, he didn’t warn me about the curse!

YES! That is what I said, the durable red hand cart is cursed. I have sore or maybe even slightly fractured ribs to prove it. Now I’ve always prided myself in my ingenuity and capability to get a job done. After all, it takes just a bit of leverage and the job is made much easier. Leverage, that’s the secret. So…….

I woke the next morning with a solution for loading an extremely heavy object into the pick up bed. I would simply wheel the load to the tailgate, lean the hand cart on the tail gate and slide the load up to gate level then shove it onto the bed. Brilliant! I started pushing and shoving the load up the “ramp.” …….Once I landed, a good foot or more away, all I could do was stay on the ground holding my head and trying to decide whether or not I would live, or if I even want to. Once I worked up enough courage to examine my hand it was indeed covered with blood. Lots of blood. It took me about ten minutes to navigate the mental haze to realize my mistake. I had left something out of the equation.

I have always been strong for my size, so it didn’t occur to me that the load was too heavy for me to even push up the ramp. At some point the load slid back down the ramp dropped onto the foot of the hand cart which in turn launched the top of the cart to fly forward and connect with my head. My eyes instantly rolled back as I worked very hard to control the law of physics and lost.

Thank heavens my ER nurse landlady was en route so I continued working figuring if it was serious she would send me to the ER. Upon her arrival, we both ruled I would live without the hospital visit. So, the work continued.

Now I wish I could tell you I became cautious of the durable red hand cart after that misadventure, but…

The next day I had another very large heavy load. BUT, I had a helper! No problem! We were diligent at getting the right tipping angle as down the driveway we went. Or at least that is what I saw in my mind just before that murderous apparatus struck again. Just as I pushed the cart into action it appeared to me the load was descending and would have landed on my helper. So, I released my hold and reached for the load as to stop the downward motion. Upon doing that, the cart hooked under my ribs and lifted me off the ground. Then in mental slow motion, I was launched once again. I’m still not sure how high into the universe I ascended, but by mustering all my skill, this time I managed to land on my feet. Who said all those dancing years wouldn’t pay off? Ha!

So today, a week later, I’m mending. Ribs still hurt when I laugh but the exodus has come to an end and I will survive! Let my story be a warning to all who venture into a new lifestyle. Plan ahead and take baby steps!

What will happen next? What does the all-knowing Universe have ready for me? I have a couple more weeks of recuperation to face those questions then I’ll be off and running again.

Until next time dear Huckleberry Friend, hold good thoughts and I’ll be wishing you happy trails.

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