Practically everything was moved from both Heather's apartment and my apartment last Friday. Only a few things were left behind because we were short on boxes. Nothing that we can't toss in the cars when we go back to clean up.
We started around 9:30 Friday morning, and finished at 7:30 that night. It was a long day that felt like it was never going to end. But it did end. With a bang as I slipped off the ramp of the truck while helping take off the final item. A bookcase.
It had been raining off and on throughout the day and the ramp was wet. Kevin – my step-dad whom it would have been impossible to do without – had the other end of the bookshelf and was at the bottom of the ramp as I was walking down.
I turned my head to answer a question my mom had asked and my left foot came down on the edge of the ramp. My foot slipped and shot up as the bookcase pushed me down and then the next thing I knew I was on my back on the ground next to the ramp.
I rested a second, trying to tell just how badly broken I was. I got up slowly and my right hand and both of my knees were aching. Both knees were bleeding and starting to swell up and there was a small chunk missing from the knuckle of my index finger. For a fat, old guy I really lucked out.
I'm pretty sure that I insisted on helping get the bookcase to the house before I went upstairs to change clothes and clean and dress my injuries.
According to my daughter who saw the fall, I did a summersault on my way to the ground. I must have taken most of my weight on my right knee, because it's by far the worst off. I have pictures that Heather took for me on Monday morning that I will post once I find where we packed the card reader.
So. That was a hoot. With luck the next time we'll have to move will be many, many years from now.
Apparently this is my 700th post. Go me.
Also, you can check out the latest SoC:HHPH podcast made fresh, last night, here: Episode 14