This morning my husband wanted to go to the Home Depot to buy some more mulch, so I went along. He also wanted a new pair of ear protectors to use when he works with power tools, so while he looked for those, I browsed the garden section and picked out a few plants for the pots I have in the yard. I bought a hibiscus to put by the side door, a geranium to put on the other side, and two basil plants for the 3 foot high pot in the garden that runs along the driveway. In the past, the size of the pot has tempted me to plant a mix of herbs, but the basil always takes over. Those plants look puny now, but they are going to get big.
Once I got home and weeded out the planters, I realized I needed more potting soil. By that time hubby was busy sanding the tongue on his trailer prior to painting it, in the process trying out the new ear protectors, so I drove myself to Lowe’s, got a buggy, found the potting soil, and tried to lift it into the buggy. “Tried” is the operative word here. They were standard looking 24 quart bags, but they felt like lead. I finally got one into the buggy, at which point a muscular young man browsing next to me offered help with the second bag. I accepted gratefully.
Another muscular young man was at the checkout counter and when I asked for help loading the bags into my car, cheerfully complied. As the second bag went into the trunk, I saw the trunk dip noticeably. “That’s 80 pounds in there,” my helper explained. “Each bag weighs 40 pounds.”
That made me feel a little better, but not much. I used to be able to deadlift 160 pounds for reps, when I was 25 pounds lighter than I am now. Ten years younger, too, but I was deadlifting 60 pounds for reps last year before I broke my foot. That may be part of why I broke my foot, but still, I should be able to lift 40 pounds.
When I got home, I stopped the car in the driveway next to the first pot and tried again. By putting my arms under the bag as far as it would go, and bending my knees as far as they would go, I was able to lift one bag and shift it the three or four feet to the grass next to the pot. So far, so good. I drove around to the carport, and saw hubby putting the wheelbarrow back after having used it to remove a rotting stump. The wheelbarrow! How could I have forgotten it? It was exactly what I needed.
I took a bucket with me back to the first pot. I cut open the bag of soil, shoveled as much as I needed into the first pot, shoveled some more into the bucket to carry over to the second pot, and carried the bag, now down to half its original weight, over to the third pot. After I got everything planted and watered, I moved the wheelbarrow over to the car, lifted the second bag into it, and parked the wheelbarrow next to the trunk while I decided what to do with the bag.
Then I went to fix lunch, and forgot all about it. Later on, I found my husband had moved the bag of soil to the trailer with the mulch, and put the wheelbarrow away. I thanked him, and said I had trouble moving the bag because it was heavy.
“Yeah, I noticed,” he said. Okay, that makes me feel better, but tomorrow morning, I am getting back together with my dumbbells.
I should be able to lift a puny 40 pounds.
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