Hauling becomes a project as well as a test of wits and endurance. I am actually proud of myself for being able to haul a 27″ iMac home on the bus, the wide, flat box with a brand-new and expensive machine securely strapped to a small, collapsible baggage trolley. The cashier at the Mac store couldn’t get over how clever I was with four bungee cords and two wheels. I was rather happy I was impressing a young, handsome man.
|The awesome plaid of
my shopping cart
I have a similar set-up for groceries: A proper granny-bag of a wheeled shopping cart, conservative blue tartan and all. It holds two large grocery bags of shopping, and makes hauling canned and bottled stuff so much easier on the arms. I supplement with a rucksack, and there’s the weekly shopping taken care of. I call my wheeled wonder my car.
So that’s how stuff makes it into my home. But then there’s getting stuff back out. And that takes on the feel of a project.
For example, there are bins for receiving clothing around where I live, set out by the Salvation Army and one other charity, but they are just far enough away that my bags of clothing to donate need to be on wheels—especially if said bins are full or out of order.
And there is the old stereo that has been sitting in a closet because the display doesn’t work and who plays cassettes or even CD’s nowadays? Norwegian appliance stores will take your stuff for free, as per the law, and there is a recycling fee baked into the price we pay for our electronic stuff.
The speakers are big, the stereo itself is heavy and did I mention I have no car and it rains a lot where I live? So it’s a project: Dig the stereo back out of the closet I so carefully (and I could have sworn, temporarily) stuffed it in, wrap it in big, black plastic bags, get it strapped with colorful bungees to the trolley and then go to my local appliance store’s back door where the recycling bins are.
I know what to do. I just don’t feel like hauling ass to do it.