You take two steps forward, I take two steps back

WARNING: If the site of blood makes you queasy, you'll want to scroll past the first picture in this post pretty quickly.

JE: Upon arriving home at 8:00 p.m. this evening after hitting her new fitness facility for a nice walk/run (3miles down, 297 to go!): Wow, I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed early.

J: Before you do, can you help me bring the treadmill down to the basement?

JE: Us? Are you sure?

J: Sure. We moved it up there.

JE: Uh...no we didn't. We paid two pretty muscular guys to move it up there.

J: No, we can do it. Come on. The UK game comes on at 9:00 and I want to walk while I watch it.

Pause in dialogue for grunting, griping and general mayhem while treadmill is dragged out of one room and down the steps to the main floor. J is only almost crushed once, and cooler heads prevail pretty quickly. JE moves boxes of Ikea wardrobes-to-be out of the way so J can roll the treadmill through the living room to the basement stairs. Treadmill gets away from him and lands on his toe.

Pause in moving for screams of agony, first aid, and minor blood clean-up. JE is rather proud of her improvised bandage. J observes that it's rather like wrapping a gift, and conveniently UK colored. (Yes, that's blue painter's tape. It was handiest. And there is actual bandage underneath it all.)

J: Okay, let's get the treadmill down the rest of the way.

JE: Um, you just tried to cut your toe off. We're not moving it again tonight.

J: We can't very well leave it where it is now, and besides, my toe feels better.

Pause in dialogue for more grunting while treadmill is moved halfway down the stairs. Which is where it gets stuck on the sloped ceiling. JE thinks she suggests pushing the top of the treadmill back towards her while she pushes the bottom towards J, in an effort to drop the treadmill down a step. She didn't. J pushes the bottom of the treadmill toward JE, pinning her ankle between the treadmill and a stair tread. The bruise forming on her ankle bone will be more impressive in the morning.

JE: Am I crazy for just wanting to drop kick the treadmill off the side of the steps?

J: Actually, that may be the only way.

JE: Wait. What? I was kidding!

J wasn't. He braced himself under the treadmill, and lifted/pulled/something or other while JE lifted/pushed/something or other the treadmill off the side of the steps. She may or may not have dislocated her shoulder in the process. It's starting to feel better.

This is where the treadmill landed (looking down from the top of the stairs). Should he not actually be successful in using the treadmill, J has promised to pay the moving company to take it back upstairs.

JE: I'm going to bed.

J: Maybe you should take an ibuprofen first. I'm going to go watch the game.

Title: Opposites Attract, by Paula Abdul