Lessons in a box

The art of moving from one place to another has the potential of imparting great wisdom to a person, at least to a person such as myself. For instance, within the span of one week I learned (or re-learned) the following lessons out of pure necessity:

Lesson number one:  My ability to set-up, connect or otherwise functionally assemble anything technical or electronic is still quite dreadful, if not non-existent.  I knew this before, I know it even better now.

I’m afraid my artistic nature and creative approach to life does not, in this case, serve me well in the slightest.  It is with great reluctance I must admit there is some value in reading those  drearily unimaginative instructions I so ardently avoid on most occasions.  Without them I found myself sitting in a rather colorful display of useless (but very attractive) wiring that went nowhere and did nothing.

So in case you were wondering, color coordinating DVD cords to construct an aesthetically pleasing display along the wall will not result in a functional piece of anything.

And yet, there is something rather satisfactory about it…

Lesson number two:  I have friends who will insist on helping me move with a fractured foot (sans cast) for twelve hours straight.  I have some good friends.

Final lesson:   The morning after twelve hours of lifting and carrying boxes up and down stairs will quite accurately reveal how fit you actually are.

Or are not.

Ahem, yes, well, one always has room for improvement.   Seeing the difficulty in working-out muscles I didn’t know I had,  I am grateful to painfully discover their existence.


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