Dear Seth, Dave, Matt, and Art (of the fellas from Golden Eagle Moving Company who moved my piano on Saturday),
I got that piano in a very shrewd business deal from an old roommate. It went something like this (my thoughts will be italicized):
Old Roommate: I'm moving
Me: Oh. (Score! Now I don't have to move because I can't handle watching you make out with your wee little boyfriend anymore!)
OR: I don't want to move my piano. Do you want to buy it for $250?
Me: Sure. (Shrewd business deal struck!!!)
You see, I know how much pianos cost. And a piano like that, even though it's kind of beat up, is worth a whole lot more than $250. The piano, as you could tell, is incredibly old and made entirely of anvils. But watching you move it yesterday made me realize that perhaps Old Roommate* was the shrewd one. I was pretty sure one of you was going to be crushed by it and a great deal would not be enough to get me out of the depths of despair if that happened.
Why? Because you guys were AWESOME! A piano made of anvils easily weighs 1000, which means that's a whole lot of piano to move both down and up several steps. I had visions in my head of one of you losing your footing and the piano crashing through the landing wall and shattering on the ground below in a million anvil pieces. And while that scenario played through my head I had dollar signs in my eyes because your company guaranteed $.60/lb for any damage done and that would have more than doubled what I paid for it. Talk about a shrewd business deal.
But no, I couldn't do that to you guys. Because besides having the strength of several Barry Bonds on both the "cream" and the "clear" you were also really cool and nice and you wouldn't let me lift anything. I bet Barry would had made me. And he probably would have whined a lot too. You found a special place in my heart. That place that is occupied by all people who do things that I don't want to do myself. Like those girls who come all the way from their homes in Asia with big dreams and no English skills and end up working in a nail salon and giving 80% of their wages to their "Uncle" after scraping the calluses off of my heels. Or the guy at the car wash that one time I felt lazy and rich and desperately out of time enough to warranted someone else washing my car. He was so meticulous and careful with her that my heart swelled a little and I started to well up as he shammied my bumper because I kept thinking that he probably had a family south of the border that he sent most of his wages too.
What I'm trying to say is thanks. You did a fine job and you deserve gold plated back braces for your efforts. No, wait, gold is heavy. You deserve, um, $100 bill lined back braces. Or stocks. Do you want stocks? Stocks could be worth more in the long run. Why don't we say stocks.
P.S. I hope you have good medical.
*Rumor has it, she has finally dumped the Wee One. (Inter-letter-letter: Dear OR, You're so much better without him! He was bringing you down, and not just literally. Love, Rachel)