October 17, 2006
The Big TV
In the annals of moving no task was perhaps greater or more daunting than that of moving my most prized posession, namely the 56 inch internal projection TV. Ever since the beast was gifted to me by my mother in the winter of 2001 (she could no longer stomach the looming bulk of it in her home), it has been a mainstay of life and a reality of moving. From her house on Southworth street to the spacious living room of 45 Blackinton. From there to our second story bedroom on Hemlock Lane. Then to Jones Street in Savannah. And then to the basement of our Baltimore home.
As you know, our space in the barn is on the second story. As soon as Bob heard of my intentions to relocate the big TV to the barn, he began a vocal campaign to prejudice me against it. A smaller TV would better compliment the relatively modest space afforded by the barn, he reasoned. And adding the big TV to the listing on our Baltimore home might sweeten the pot for a potential buyer. Finally, if maintaining size was my aim, a large variety of flat screen models were now available. It was with the final argument that I realized Bob was really fishing for excuses. In no other context would he suggest that good money be spent on replacing something that one already owned. The fact was, he knew he would be enlisted to assist with the task of moving and he had no interest in spraining his back in the interest of the proverbial idiot box.
But we lured him with promises of Netflix and Movie Night, complete with inducements of popcorn and a likely perch in the overstuffed leather recliner. In the end I believe it was our unwillingness to bend, our clear and shining vision to live in harmony with the big TV that swayed him. Bob is, beneath it all, a grand romantic, and he could tell that I truly loved the TV. That without it, I was but a shell of a man.
That, and the secret we learned from the affable repair man who nursed the big TV back to health when its picture failed early in our Baltimore days: the big TV, a seemingly impenetrable mass of oak, mirrors, and electronic guts, can be made significantly less heavy by the removal of its projecting apparatus.
Moving the TV from storage was not difficult. It was, thankfully, made with casters which enabled us to wheel it gently from the storage unit to the van and from the van to the base of the barn stairs. At which point we removed the guts, girded our loins, and hefted the sucker with pain and deliberate study step by step up to the second floor.
We did not photograph the adventure. Not only were our faces contorted in the pain of burdened labor, but we were too terrified of losing our grip and being cruelly crushed. Only when the TV had been safely delivered to its predetermined resting place did we stand back and admire it.
We made one fatal error in judgment in moving the big TV. Thinking that the casters might mar the newly finished floors beneath the its awesome weight, we placed it on a scrap of carpet and slid the whole affair across the floors. This was a good plan in theory, but it was fiberglass fibers on the bottom of the carpet, beneath the awesome weight of the big TV, that ended up scratching the finish.
Our big TV has landed, safe and sound. There have been several movie nights. Bob has each time been offered the overstuffed recliner, and he has yet to decline. But we live with the reminder of the television's bulk. The long scratches run the length of our space serve as a daily reminder that the day will come when we wlll be called upon to summon deep resolve and move this sucker again.
Best not to get lulled into a false sense of security, I say. Every man suffers beneath the weight of a bittersweet burden. The big TV is my cross to bear.
Posted by bogenamp at 04:14 AM
June 14, 2006
An essential step in moving barnward is selling the current domicile. We put our house on the market last monday. On wednesday we had a realtor's open house. In spite of the mound of sandwiches our agent bought to feed the eager hordes, only three realtors showed up and our agent was worried that we were in for the long haul. But Lo! A buyer showed up just as the open house was winding down. He stayed a while, seemed interested, and that very night put in an offer--for MORE than the asking price. We signed the paperwork that night, and we are currently UNDER CONTRACT, waiting for the results of the home inspection and appraisal before we feel too good about ourselves.
All signs point to the heavens being in approval of our foolhearty scheme. Our fingers are crossed. Cross yours, too, if you would be so kind.
Posted by bogenamp at 11:34 PM