Saturday, November 6, 2010


I hung a large, metal wall-sculpture today.
I'm putting some finishing touches on our new den.
My wife is used to me doing these things.
My body isn't up to the task anymore.
My mind must compensate for my lack of physical endurance.
First, I ask her where she wants it.
She has me hold the heavy thing in place.
My lower back and legs are screaming in pain.
I say, "How much damn longer?"
"This is torture!"
She replies, "I want to see if I want it that high."
I rest for a few minutes, and try another position.
"This damned thing is killing me", I say.
She says, "There!" "That's perfect!"
I say, "Hurry up and mark the bottom corner."
"My back is killing me!"
I measure the width of the love seat,
'cause it's centered on the wall.
Then I get my center point for the wall hanging.
Then I measure out from the pencil mark.
I measure down to get the bottom corner.
I get the sculpture's topmost point from one side.
I drive my nail in where the hanging eyelet is welded,
on the inside of the assembledge.
I hang one side and have my wife put my level
in the center of the piece.
I pivot the un-nailed end to where I think it should be.
I ask my wife, "Is the bubble in the level dead-center yet?"
She says, "Huh?"
"What bubble?"
My back is aching and my legs are shaking.
I try to contain my rage and frustration.
I reply, "Look at the gall-danged level, for Chrissakes!"
"Here, I'll move the sculpture up and down,"
"Do you see it now?"
She replies in amazement, "Oh yes!"
We get it level and I nail it home.
I am her hero.
Next time I'll pay my contractor twenty-bucks
to hang something like this.
It will be worth it.

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