So we spent the weekend helping my niece Delsa and her husband Neil move out of the space that formerly held their business, Max Gymnastics. Yup, the biz didn't make it, but considering that the stress of running it pretty much gave Delsa a heart attack, it's probably for the best that they decided to close it.
I really don't have much right to complain, since the heart attack survivor worked her tail off not just today and yesterday, but for many, many days leading up to this weekend. And her husband and mother in law also worked much, much more than me. Well, they are tougher than me. And I am going to complain. My feet are KILLING me, and my arms and legs don't want to move. I did a lot of broom-pushing (more tiring than you think) and some lifting of boxes, gymnastic equipment and such.
Delsa told Cheryl she's never seen her work so hard. I know it's been a while since I worked that hard. I have a sense of accomplishment, which is nice. But I'm too tired to really revel in it. I swear, I could fall asleep while writing thi --
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