Mattress mambo

Apparently, I decided that someone besides me should get hurt today, and I was gonna make it happen.

Jim and I are cleaning out the upstairs bedroom so he can have a den in there. We've spent the day moving heavy stuff downstairs (because I'm such a burly girlie). The old air conditioner was a big, bulky bitch, and I figured that surely it would be the worst thing we moved today.

I hadn't counted on the Mattress of Doom.

We managed to get the thing from the second floor to the first without incident, even though I'm not what you'd call an awful lot of help. I was at least an extra pair of hands. We wrestled it out the front door, and I thought we were home free as we guided it down the steps of the porch.

And then I might have sorta guided Jim right off the steps and face first into the rosebush on the side of the house. Good thing we don't keep guns around.

He was by no means the last casualty of the Mattress of Doom (I managed to knock over a big clock and both our bikes in the garage before all was said and done), but he was certainly the only one who had to pick thorns out of his hands.