That time I launched a hand-truck

Handling repression and divine imprecation

I did a lot of thinking over the last week after I picked up and threw a 30-pound two-wheel dolly. Or “hand-truck,” if you prefer.

Perhaps some context…

This…wasn’t easy.

It was last Wednesday. A day off from my hell job. I drove from Oklahoma City, where I live temporarily in a Georgian Orthodox monastery, to Tulsa, OK. It’s about two hours, which isn’t much compared to some of the other road trips I used to routinely drive, but it would be enough to get some serious planning and thinking done. Or so I thought.

If I’m being honest, that’s when the pot started heating up. Hrrrngh, I shouldn’t even have to be making this commute…Hrrrrngh… 

I’d planned to use the day off to downsize a storage unit to save some money. (Shouldn’t even NEED a storage unit…Hrrrngh…) However, other well-laid plans had fallen through, and long story short, I was also going to take the family out to a nice place in Tulsa for a day-early Thanksgiving dinner. 

So, time was now short (Hrrrrngh…) to do a big job; to basically stuff 100 cubic feet of stuff into a 50 cubic foot unit. I despise having to do big jobs in cramped conditions in a short timeframe. I did it for ten years with my moving company. 

I. 

Despise. 

It.

You might say I was in a mood by the time I was on-site.