Lugging the soaking-wet carpet and padding up from the flooded basement of one of the school buildings in the aftermath of last week's storm was a huge chore. Staff slashed the stuff up with box-cutters and I went and recruited a few strapping teenaged students to help pull it out to the garbage.
The excuses proffered were ingenious and unabashed: "Man, I don't wanna get my pants all wet." "Um, yeah, well, I'm holding this little kid's hand." "I can't; I'm drinking a Mountain Dew." But a minute and a half later, there they all were. It was a treacherous job navigating the way to the dumpsters; despite the sun, the parking lot was still very icy, especially the space right in the gate between the lot and the school. We had done about three trips (some of the pieces requiring three people to carry, they were so water-logged), stepping ever-so-carefully in order to keep our feet, when someone said--hey, we're moving carpet, right? We could, you know, put some carpet over the ice....
It was easier after that. Using what comes to hand. Or foot.
Post a Comment