the brown truck has nothing on me

Husband asked if I could deliver something to his office.  He rides his bicycle to work, which makes carrying larger items rather difficult.  He said he would put it into the trunk of the car, then I could bring it by anytime all day.

I went through my usual morning stuff, started the dishwasher, then went out to the car.  The object was a vacuum cleaner.  It didn’t look very big and heavy, just awkward because of the hose and electrical cord.

My mind measured two options, the parking on and near campus, and my edict from two medical people (and the mirror) to get daily exercise.
I decided the exercise would be more useful than spending a few coins in a parking meter, then having to carry the bundle up the walk and into the building anyway.

I found my carry-all bag with the shoulder strap, dropped my wallet into the bottom, got the vacuum cleaner all situated inside, wrapped the strap just so across my chest, then started walking.
I made it to the neighbor’s driveway, then had to set down the bag.  This wasn’t going to work for the mile of distance from house to College of Business building.

I carried it back and returned it to the trunk of the car in our driveway.  I leaned against the fender, still unwilling to admit defeat and start the engine.

The vacuum cleaner has wheels, maybe I could just tow it along.  Maybe if I had a grocery cart, I could push it along ahead of me.  I remember growing up, this one neighbor lady had a nice folding basket she could take on the bus to carry groceries.

A squirrel skittered up to the platform of the neighbor kid’s treehouse, scolding me for invading his space.  When I told him to hush, he went rushing off, using the cable line as his own personal highway.
As I watched him leap into the next tree, my eyes passed our wheelbarrow leaning against the back wall of the garage. 

Hhmmm.  It has wheels, is more than big enough to hold the vacuum cleaner and its hose, and the other bag of stuff going to his office, can be pushed in front of me while I’m walking.

I wheeled it out, then used the porch broom to sweep away most of the dust and leaves clinging to it.  I put the vacuum cleaner, still in the canvas bag, into the bin, dropped the rest of my stuff in, closed the trunk of the car, and got on my way.

The walk down Normal Avenue was uneventful.  That time of day, everybody is pretty much at work or school.  Any retirees looking out their windows might have gotten a few snickers.
Crossing busy Willow Street can be difficult even without pushing a cart, but I made it.  One car turning left around the corner I was standing at, the driver was craning his neck to see what on earth I might have in there!
Getting through the north parking lot was fine, but what about the steps going up to the plaza?  I didn’t want to have to walk all the way around the library to the handicapped ramp.
Ah yes, the Bone Center’s elevator.  I pushed the button for the Handicapped door to remain open, rambled in to use the up elevator, and made it out to the plaza no problem.

Crossing the Quad, nobody paid any attention to me.  All the students have either buds for the Ipod or a cell phone keeping their interest.  A couple college professors walked past, chatting together.

Outside the building, I debated about how best to get to the office.  Ah well, the elevator was good at the last place, we can do it this time, too.  Again, I used the Handicapped button, the door swung open, found the elevator (first time I have had to use it there—the steps are near the door and easy height), and made our way to the Tech’s office.
The student worker at the door seemed a bit skeptical until I told her that I’m a wife.  Ah, no problem, she waved me on.

The fun part was back in the office.  I couldn’t get the wheelbarrow past all the piles in the aisle.  Husband heard my voice and came out of the cubicle.
The look of surprise on his face is firmly planted in my memory.
“I, I thought you would be bringing the car?!?” he mumbled.
A co-worker stuck his head around the partition.
Husband looked over at him and said “I just never know what she’ll be doing next.”

I motioned for him to come over to get the stuff, since I couldn’t push any further in.
A few more words, then I was on my way again.

The next stop was the post office.  I pushed the wheelbarrow to a bicycle rack, ran my bicycle cable through the handle, and locked it to the pole.
I walked on, carrying only my bag with wallet and package in it.  It felt so free! I was able to do a brisk pace.

When I got back, a college student was at the rack with his own bicycle.  He said he wondered why a wheelbarrow was locked there, and ya just never know what happens on a college campus.

Most of the walk home, I pulled the empty wheelbarrow behind me like a wagon.  Big mistake.  My wrists are not happy with that position, and they told me so most of the evening.

I did get some crocheted bookmarks done by request.  They are wet and getting blocked on the pins.
No pictures, they are to be a surprise for someone at church, although I don’t think she reads here.

~~love and Huggs, Diane

 

 

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2 Responses to the brown truck has nothing on me

  1. Reenie says:

    Diane, that was such a great story I passed it on to a coworker. She thanked me and said she enjoyed reading it too.
    Brad has always said life is never boring being married to me, I imagine your husband says the same.

  2. momma says:

    Diane, I know that necessity is the mother of invention but you never seem to amaze me! Love the way you combine delivery with exercise!