Tying the knots

It had been storming off and on all morning as we packed for our overnight trip to Baltimore. I was running a 5K with Kelly and Adam, but since we were heading up there anyway, we had made arrangements with them to deliver two sections of our couch to their house, ninety-odd miles up the road.

So during a mid-afternoon break in the weather, we finally loaded our overnight bags into the truck and drove to our storage unit, where we kept the pieces of the couch that wouldn’t fit in our living room. Where we could load them into the truck bed, cover them up, tie them down, and cross our fingers that the rain would continue to hold off. Tempting fate is what we were doing.

Keith was soon busy climbing all around the contents of his truck bed, throwing rope around things, tying all sorts of knots, with the intense summer sun bearing down on us, sweating in the Maryland heat and humidity — ohhh, the humidity. So like any good wife who can’t tie knots and generally has no idea what her husband is doing, I started taking pictures.

Keith makes some good lookin’ knots.

I guess all those years of Boy Scouts paid off.

I tried to watch and learn, but he just knots way too fast. The boy’s got skillz.

I, however, am ghostly pinkish-white and can’t even shave without slicing open the back of my ankle. Three times. In the same spot.

He did a great job securing the beast in the truck bed. And, miraculously, the weather cooperated with us too.

The couch made it safe, sound, and dry, and I’m sure it’ll be happy in its new, loving home. Unless the cats pee on it.