(Tom Jirik wrote columns in several newspapers in Iowa from the late 1980’s to the mid 1990’s.  This column originally appeared in the The Boone Today) 

As I type this, every key stroke sends agony up through my arms.  Under the keyboard, my knees are becoming stiffer by the moment.  Each turn of my head sends pain shooting down my neck.

That’s what I get for spending my Saturday walking around with a recliner on my head.

I reluctantly agreed to help out at Redeker’s Furniture during their Crazy Days sale.  My wife, a full-timer at Redeker’s, told me that the store was short-staffed in its warehouse and she convinced me that it would be “just swell” if I could come down and help out a little bit for Crazy Days.

The trepidation began to build when she rousted me out of bed at 4 a.m.   Somehow I knew it was not going to be a good day.

When we arrived at the store an hour later, customers were already rummaging through the discount tables, and I was soon helping the rest of the staff.  We seemed to be intently emptying the entire store onto the front sidewalk.

I’ve never considered furniture-moving to be my strong suite.  I’m out of shape, and grace is not exactly my middle name.  Suddenly at 5:30 a.m. I found myself carrying sleeper sofas that weighed hundreds of pounds over and around thousands of dollars worth of end tables, vases and assorted other furniture.  “Is this stuff insured?”  I wondered to myself.

By watching the regular employees, I soon learned that if you flip a swivel rocker or recliner over your head like a hat you can carry it very conveniently.  I soon became quite adept at the maneuver.  My confidence was severely shaken though when the legs of the recliner on my head crashed into a door frame.  It nearly fractured my neck.  Then I noticed that most of the other guys carrying recliners on their heads were somewhat shorter than I.

At 7 a.m. The storm clouds began rolling in from the west.  Joe Redeker looked over the sofas, recliners and swivel rockers that we had carried outside.  Then he looked skyward and announced, “We might have to carry this stuff back inside in a hurry if it starts raining.”  I began looking for an escape.  But we were spared any heavy rain and the subsequent hurried heavy lifting.

As customers purchased chairs and sofas, we carted them away to the back room.  We plucked new ones from the showroom floor and hauled them outside.  It was a vicious circle.

At 11:30 Mary and I slipped away for a quick lunch.  “Are you having fun?” She asked cheerfully.  I was too exhausted to scream, but I can scowl very well when I’m exhausted.

The furniture grew heavier and heavier as the afternoon progressed.  My neck began to stiffen.  My arms seemed to turn to lead.  I was certain that by the end of the afternoon, my fingers would be dragging on the ground as I walked.

At 4:30 p.m. The clouds began to roll in again.  We hurriedly pulled the remaining merchandise inside the store.  The clouds opened up as we closed the doors.

It was more than 30 hours ago that I moved my last recliner, but as I write this my joints seem to be getting worse instead of better.  I can’t bring myself to go near the sofa in our living room, and I have an uncomfortable urge to flip chairs upside down on my head.

I do have a newfound appreciation for my career as a writer.

But don’t let me dissuade you.  If do want to try that inverted-recliner-on-your- head trick, do it.  But take a tip from a former furniture mover:  Don’t wear one of those baseball caps with the itsy-bitsy button on top.