by Andrew Henderson
I recently wrote about my handyman skills — or lack thereof — in a previous column.
However, it seems that my one and only shining quality when it comes to that sort of thing is now diminishing — just like an athlete who is slowly coming to terms with his or her declining abilities.
This is probably not a shocker to you, but my family has learned never to call on me to fix things. Instead, they have learned to call on me to help move large objects.
How can I say no? They bribe me with food. When food is involved, I’m game to move anything.
It seems like I must have moved my brother and sister-in-law’s “stuff” about a dozen times. This “stuff” consists of couches (the heavy ones with foldout beds), washing machines, refrigerators, dryers, desks, dishwashers, treadmills, small farm animals, playground sets, etc…
I first moved them from their old apartment to their first house. Notice that I used the word “first.” After a few years, they decided to move to a larger home — probably to hold more stuff for me to move. While that home was being built, I moved them back into an apartment.
The home was finished a couple of months later and I moved them into their current — and last! — home, or so I threatened.
For the complete column, pick up a copy of The Valley News