But truly, what price these "bargains"? What price indeed?
It is here that I must point out that I apparently have the very worst timing in the world, my personal chronology being somewhat out of conjunction with the rest of all Creation, like a man trapped in some bad sci-fi, ten minutes out of synch with everyone else.
How do I know this? Simple.
I always seem to be available when other people are moving and require manual help with heavy objects; yet when I'm moving, everyone else is invariably busy with other things. I'm certain there's a Cosmic law at work here, I simply don't know the specifics of it, only that there are approximately ten critical minutes I'm lacking somewhere, whether moments in which I might run away and avoid work, or moments when I need to catch a friend in order to obtain assistance. Who the hell can say?
So...
Saturday I had THIS to move:
... and this:
... up out of the open basement in which they previously resided and onto this:
There were a total of 800 concrete cinderblocks purchased for $200. This seems like an insane bargain ... at first. That's when my wee problem with Universal Synchronicity began again. You see, when I first made the purchase my final Guard Drill was scheduled for the 17th, 18th and 19th of November. Shortly after I made the purchase I was informed that drill had been moved to the 1st and 2nd of the month -- the very weekend when I was supposed to move these small bits of black hole matter.
"No problem," I said to myself, "I've got friends who will be glad to pitch in. I'll buy some beer, take them to dinner as a reward, that sort of thing. We'll be done loading by noon, finished unloading by dinner time and enjoy an evening out! I can get at least one day of Guard in to recoup my losses, right?"
So I asked about. People were, unfortunately, occupied elsewhere, it was a shame this was on such short notice. Really, they'd love to help, but... you know how it is, we've got plans, or not... still, we're really quite busy ourselves... but good luck, yes? No, I'm not avoiding your gaze, there are miniscule objects of great interest hovinging all around your periphery and I cannot look away from them in order to further engage with you, sorry.
"It's okay," I said to myself, "I've got other friends who will be glad to pitch in on this sort of short notice..."
And I asked about. And about... and roundabout... As it seems, I may not be so popular as I previously suspected.
"It's okay," I said to myself delusionally, "I can handle this on my own."
I was initially worried about the weight the truck would bear, so I made a point of looking at the load capacity of the 26-foot cargo vehicle I rented. The front axle was rated for 4500 pounds, the rear axle rated for 12,000 pounds.
"Should be PLENTY," I thought. And including travel time and rental time, my Saturday, which began around 0645, commenced to become a day of work at 0959 precisely, as seen here:
Okay, you have to turn your head sideways and squint a bit, but my watch reads 0959, at least in my universe. Others see it, I suspect, either ten minutes prior or later, depending on chronological perspective.
And so I carried these things, two-by-two, one per arm, UP out of the basement, AROUND the stupid, torn-up fencing these people had laid out, then UP into the rear of the U-Haul vehicle, stacking them as safely as possible.
The day wore on... and on... At one point I stopped to count and it turned out there were more than 800 of these blocks, more like 940 by my math once the former owner began throwing blocks outside the basement into the deal, blocks from elsewhere on the property. "It's okay," I reasoned, " 'Tis more the bargain for me!"
Sh'yah... Think that math through again, pal.
As darkness began to fall that evening I noticed from my lower perspective that the axle-springs in the rear of the vehicle were no longer curved nicely upward, but rather slightly straight, and... well, sort of downward.
This worried me. Getting up out of the basement I investigated. Having approximately 140 blocks left to go, my truck appeared to be in danger of bottoming out.
I opted to forego the remainder of the blocks and get my butt home before the truck split in two.
All the way home I white-knuckled the steering wheel, speed never getting above 45 until I hit the steep hills nearly within eyeballing distance of my home. UP was tough; DOWN was absolutely inspirational:
Prayin', prayin', prayin',
It's weird, but I'm just sayin',
Man, my butt is sprayin',
Rawhide!
But I made it home, parking the vehicle safely. I got home about 2230, or 10:30 p.m. for you civilian sorts, exhausted more than I recall being in recent years. Inside I drank some water and rested for a moment before declaring that I no longer cared about the extra day renting the truck, there was absolutely no way I could unload that vehicle on my own that night.
I took a hot shower and limped to bed, not even stopping to eat a late supper. Okay, not entirely true; I ate several aspirin. Someone should come up with a nice gravy to accompany aspirin, you know?
The following morning I unloaded. DOWN made the job much, much easier, but I was still alone in my efforts nonetheless. Eventually I realized that by taking the blocks and stacking them I would not get finished in time to turn the truck in, so I began to simply throw the blocks off the back of the vehicle. When the ground was covered I pulled the truck forward a bit and returned to unloading.
One side of my barn looks as though a large child became recalcitrant while playing with enormous blocks. Still, I got the vehicle back to it's home.
Out of curiosity I looked it up today. The average cinderblock weighs 29 pounds. After spending my day moving them, I suspect this to be approximately correct, give or take 50 pounds. Some blocks seemed lighter, some significantly heavier. There were blocks I would have guessed at about 23 pounds, others I would have placed more around 40 pounds.
Taking that average of 29 pounds and doing the math, I moved 23,200 pounds. For you limeys, that's a bit over 1657 stone! It's no wonder the truck was in danger; I was way, way over the limit and it's absolutely amazing I didn't die in this endeavor. Seriously, who the hell knew?!?
Total cost: Way more than I initially bargained for. The initial $200 for the stones, the following bit-over-$250 for the vehicle, to include extra day and gas, not to mention the Guard pay I lost out on by being unable to attend my final Drill.
Worth it? Hmm... I may have to get back to you on that one just as soon as I can walk properly and have full use of my arms once more. On a positive note my arms and shoulders do look fabulous today, despite that I can't move them very well! I suppose that's worth something... *sigh*
2 comments:
Ouch and Ouch. I would like to say that I would have helped you, but in reality, there is no way I could have. I really do work on the weekends, I live a state away, and I don't think I could have physically lifted more than a couple. The best I can do to help is to remind you that epsom salts are great for muscle relief. Take a long hot soak w/ about two cups mixed in the water. You can also make a pack with moistened epsom salts for more direct relief.
(What are you building?)
What are you going to use them for? And whatever it is, can you build it without help?
Not that you shouldn't try for help, but help -- as you've said -- doesn't always come when called.
Maybe if you ask people far enough ahead and don't mention any building. Say you'd plan a barbecue for the guys who helped. Maybe you could mention the barbecue first, then when they RSVP'd you could explain the string attached?
Sneaky, but necessary.
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