A Tender Heart

Heidi August 4th, 2008

When Charming and I moved into our house about four months ago, we became the new owners of a very, very large hot tub.

The cover was water logged and super heavy.

And we weren’t sure if it actually worked.

But from the moment I saw it, I told Charming, “I don’t want it.”

“What?!” he replied in disbelief, “You don’t want a hot tub?!”

I looked sheepish and answered, “No, I don’t. Do you?”

“Yes!” he replied without hesitation, “I love hot tubs. It’s like a big huge bathtub!”

“Except it’s outside in the cold and right next to our neighbor’s house,” I calmly observed, more to myself than to him.

Charming wasn’t convinced and still wanted it, so I was willing to give it a probationary period and see how things went.

A couple months went by.

And I’m not sure if it was cost of heating the thing, our complete lack of knowledge for how to maintain it or the fact that it leaked, but something changed Charming’s mind and one night he told me, “Okay, we can get rid of it. Go ahead and post it on Craigslist and we’ll see if we can sell it.”

“Are you sure?” I asked with surprise, “Because we’ll probably never buy one, so if you think you want it, we can keep it.”

“No, that’s okay,” he assured me, “We can sell it.”

So I posted it on Craigslist with the specific instruction that the buyer was in charge of hauling it away.

And then we waited and a few people came to look at it, but that was it.

Until the day Bill called.

“If you can get it on my trailer, I’ll buy it,” Bill told Charming.

“Okay,” Charming said and they agreed on a time for Bill to drop off his trailer.

When Charming told me this new development, I just stared at him.

“What?!” I said as my jaw hung open, “Are you serious!?! How on earth are we going to move that huge monstrosity onto a trailer???!!!”

“I don’t know,” Charming shrugged and smiled with undaunted optimism, “But we’ll figure it out.”

That was the moment I should have called my doctor, asked for a prescription for Valium and completely checked out until it was all over, because I’m just not good with moving heavy objects.

But I didn’t.

And then one fateful Saturday, I walked into my backyard and it was full of men.

Men from church.

That I didn’t know.

Who heard someone in the congregation needed help moving the biggest hot tub known to man and decided to spend their Saturday morning helping out.

Men we were so glad to see!

And along with these men, came a few children.

Children who absolutely loved Bubbers and couldn’t get enough of playing with him.

Or taking pictures of him with my camera. :)

Now, when the men first arrived at our house, they asked Charming what the game plan was and Charming replied, “I have no idea.”

He’d never moved a hot tub before and didn’t have the slightest clue of what they should do.

But fortunately for all involved, the man with the yellow shirt took charge and saved the day.

And the first thing he did was jack up one side of the hot tub, so it would be easier to man handle.

And while he did that, more men I didn’t know came pouring into my backyard.

And as I watched them work, I had paranoid visions of hot tubs falling, backs breaking and little children being squished.

So I kept a super close eye on Bubbers and the other kids and made sure they were kept far, far away.

But they were oblivious to the imminent danger and busy having the time of their lives.

And when I looked back at the men, they had taken position around the hot tub and looked ready to actually start moving it.

And that’s when my heart rate shot up to 565 beats/minute.

And I duct taped Bubbers to my hip.

And I held my breath.

Then the men grunted.

And lifted.

And set it down on some concrete blocks.

Then I let out my breath, squinted, scratched my head and wondered what that was all about, since it looked exactly the same to me.

But no backs were broken.

And no children squished.

So I didn’t complain.

Then they made plans to bring it around the deck and put it on a couple saw horses.

So they grunted and lifted…..

And set it down again.

But they didn’t quite reach where they’d planned.

Because it was just too heavy to carry for long distances, so they decided they needed to do something different.

And about this time, I was so stressed out I had to go inside, take a break and drink some water.

And by the time I got back, they were almost out of the yard!

And then I had visions of the hot tub crashing down, squashing everyone in sight and ripping a hole in our dining room wall.

But it didn’t happen.

So I tried to breathe.

But then they were squeezing past our front porch and I had more visions of injury.

And I held back the kids until they’d cleared the porch.

And then I told the kids to get on the porch and not move.

And I prayed that the hot tub didn’t squash our next door neighbor.

Then the men pulled the trailer as close as they could, even though it was going skeewampus off our driveway and squishing our poor bushes.

But I didn’t care.

Bushes could definitely be squashed.

But not people.

Then they hefted it onto the edge of the trailer and pushed with all their might.

And I prayed that the trailer didn’t fold under the weight.

Or tip sideways.

Or flip up all of a sudden.

And my prayers were answered!

It didn’t tip or fall or squash.

So then we profusely thanked all the men who helped and promised them a more tangible thank you at a future date when I wasn’t near apoplexy.

And then we looked up.

And realized we had a humongous hot tub.

Blocking our driveway.

And squashing our plants.

That wasn’t tied down.

And I spent the next five hours in fear of high winds and tipping and crashing and breaking.

Until Bill finally came and hauled it away without a hitch.

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