So I packed up and am ready to head out to Oshkosh, and let me tell you, I have never seen the dorms this quiet. It's like a zombie apocalypse started and ended here, The kitchen is a wreck and there are intestines and empty shotgun shells littering the halls. (not really you weirdos) I had the beautiful opportunity to attempt to take my loft down by myself. (There were dudes that offered to help, but no way was I missing out on this masochistic fun!) Now the way the lofts are set up, you have those buttons that you push in to make that 'tearing apart' and 'not dying' easier, ya know? the kind you push in and they click into the holes. (I searched google but came up with no relevant results. Do they have a name???) Anyway, they are positioned on all four corners of the upper part of the loft and it is necessary to push BOTH in on one side WHILE lifting up, to get the lofty-bunk part off. and you need to do this three times (there are three holes) on each side. (totaling SIX, for all my less-academically successful readers.) Now, setting this up was cake! I had my family to help me. But take down, whopped my ass . I had to climb onto the bed beneath the loft and put one leg on the desk (or the window) to get the right leverage to lift it off. That took forever, and was exhausting. Not to mention I had to waddle on the mattress back and forth to each side of the bed to properly get it off. (you know how you can never 'walk' right on squishy things?) Now the fun's just starting my lovelies. Here's the kicker. The main event. The moment I have been dreading to write, and you really want to hear about.
Getting the loft DOWN.
Don't get me wrong. It's not like 1000 lbs and I'm not exactly weak, but after the lifting part, that thing weighed A TON, and I was way to stubborn to ask for help. "A good leader asks for help, A great leader loves a challenge"- Me I was feeling cocky and my lady testosterone levels were peaking, so Hell Yeah! I got this! But as I was lifting it down, my foot gets caught on the chord on the desk. I try to free myself and fling my freaking foot into a metal bar! I hit the nubby ankle bone! But I have to keep the loft up so I start growling and shouting like a fucking possessed gargoyle while shaking my head like a dog after a swim. Like that would help the pain! This goes on for AT LEAST ten seconds. That's not that long you say? Get a watch and growl for ten seconds. It lasts FOREVER! Finally the pain subsides so it only feels like a baseball bat on my ankle instead of a jackhammer. And I happen to look up and see my CRUSH standing in the freaking doorway!!!!! Like what the hell did I do to deserve this??? THEY SAW THE WHOLE THING!!!! So eyes wide, mouth gaping and hands shaking, they slowly back away, making 'sleep talking' sounds. I have yet to see/ hear from them. I have blew every chance for a date that I have ever had EVER, and this is just another embarrassing, ugly, loud, drop in that bucket.
On the bright side I got the loft down.
Call me Hercules. :)
-Q
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