Television: 1, Annie: 0

I'm a pack rat. I keep things needlessly and for a long time. So I've had this old television sitting in my bedroom for six months, waiting to find a new home. And when I say "old," I mean something that was probably manufactured before I was. Meaning it was pretty dang heavy...


(This is an Internet-found representation, not an actual photo of the item in question...)

Cue last Thursday night when--gol darn it--I was going to get rid of that stupid tv once and for all. I mustered up every bit of the strength my girl arms had to offer and heaved that thing out of my apartment and down the hall to my awaiting car...

Only to drop that sucker just feet from the open car door. And wouldn't you know it, my instincts kicked in, and I threw my leg out there to help catch the massive beast of a thing.

I won't detail the myriad of curse words that went through my brain as I nearly crumpled to the ground in distress. But I would not be deterred! I picked up that monstrosity of an electronic device, and I slung it in the back seat and drove straight to DI. I told the guys at the pick-up to take it far, far away where it could do me harm no more.

And here are my bruises that have been forming ever since. You can't see them very well in the first picture, but look at my knee, my shin, and my ankle. In case you're wondering, none of those body parts is very adept at catching huge television sets.


(Like how my school book acts as a foot rest? In case you're wondering, it's a book about male/female roles in public administration...not some sort of dating book.)



And what did we learn from all this? Annie needs a boyfriend. Or I at least need to stop acting like I can do everything by myself.