I suffer from OCFMD

Reagen said I have been recommended for Sunday reading.  My alarm want off at 6am like it does every Sunday. 

I wanted to write and tell all of you something spectacular. 

Instead I have been moving furniture for 2 1/2 hours.  I suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Furniture Moving Disorder, if there is such a thing.

Growing up, the kids fussed (and probably cussed when I wasn’t in earshot) when they heard their name and, “Come hear, hurry!”

I have avoided asking for help to avoid hearing their whining.  I also do not like the battle of explaining where I am going with it and why, only to end up cornered or on the verge of a hernia or back surgery.

When we had the Woodstock Garden Center, my grandmother used to warn me that I was going to pay for moving all that concrete.  I am very fortunate that I have no issues because I have definitely put myself to the test.  Jeff got the hernia. 

Jeff and I fought last night when we moved the couch.  He is telling me to turn the couch at a 45 degree angle to get it through the door.  Reagen thinks I am crazy because I yell back, “I know that, but apparently the secret of my strength was located in my gallbladder.  And when it left me, so did my ability to move furniture without assistance.”  (Viewer discretion is advised on what I actually said, but that is what I meant.)

Jeff laughed.  I got mad because he actually admitted that he liked the couch better where I put it.  I had suggested moving it two hours before and he held out on getting up until I had moved every cushion, but the one he was sitting on.

Of all the things I have discovered lately, it is now kinda a running joke.  Stewart, one of my coworkers, said, “Cheryl, there are these other things you are going to learn about, they are called-Memes.”

I already know about them Stewart.  

 Colby sends them to me.  Not funny Colby.   Well kinda.

I guess he has earned the right.  For Colby is my child who got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and face planted an entertainment center.  (I moved it after he went to sleep.  No big deal.)

Man up Colby, I love you.  Now come fix my dryer. 

Don’t laugh, 

Cheryl 

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