During this morning’s dusting and vacuuming session, prior to my mater’s return from vacation, I felt moved to refresh the aesthetics of the dining room.
A chore which involved moving the cabinet containing hundreds of my late father’s CDs, removing his disk player (which is pretty much redundant in the world of streamed music), placing a TV where the disk player once lay; along with swapping a couple of lamps.
I’ve not got the heart to dispense of my old man’s compact disk albums. This collection, oft the pleasant soundscape at numerous happy family get togethers, evoking too many fond recollections of times with my beautiful father, to get rid.
Although the CDs are rarely played in the Apple Music era, getting rid of them is unthinkable. A sentiment borne despite opening the unit’s doors giving liberty to despair at our former family head’s demise. A mental starkness, with poetry noir, I liken to the sadness dispensed when Pandora’s Box was opened.
Shifting the cabinet laden with familial gravy wasn’t an easy task. When I took the decision to move the furniture I was under the impression it stood atop castor wheels; which’d provide welcome assistance while undertaking the task.
Sadly, though, on commencement of shoving the unit, it became eminently clear there was no wheels on this waggon. Consequently, the only way to move this ‘tanker’ would be through brute force. Bearing in mind it’s a weighty wooden structure, laden with 200+ CDs, a burdensome exercise.
Throw into that brew, both doors are only secured by the smallest of magnets, great care was essential mid-shift to avoid the doors jettisoning open and the collection ending up on our dining room carpet. This additional conundrum requiring yours truly to jam the doors shut with my torso, whilst slowly shuffling the cabinet a few feet to the right.
Mercifully, I managed to successfully fulfil the exercise prior to strain from these efforts causing my second heart attack in two years. My cardiologist probably wouldn’t have approved. However, if he’s a problem this over-exertion, he’s welcome to come and undertake my next chore requiring strenuous activity.
Footnote – Incidentally, the above was meant with tongue in cheek. Clearly it’s me who was reckless and stupid for expending this level of effort on a non-urgent task.
With candour, I may have to move the TV back to its original site. The indoor aerial, which was temperamental picking up a signal at its former site, won’t tune into any channel since my impromptu feng shui.
If I can’t rectify this major barrier to my televisual enjoyment, I’ll be forced to either procure a more powerful indoor aerial, or return the telly to whence it came…… As an aside, if you ever confronted by similar TV tuning issues, be aware admonishing the aerial with shouts of “Work, you useless chuffing b*****d!” won’t resolve the problem.
Looking at the post-shift dining room layout, it’s certainly a lot tidier. However, with the fact there’s still lots of artwork materials cluttering the place, and the fact the TV won’t work now, I’d venture a Project Manager would have little option but to sign off the implementation as a ‘Partial Success’.
