I consider myself to be a pretty strong female. Biceps of steel, thighs of titanium, abs of sterling silver. My abs have recently been downgraded from platinum.
Twenty one steps at a forty seven degree incline. My new apartment is determined to prove me a weakling.
I have now made the trip up those stairs carrying a couch, two sets of mattresses, five pieces of heavy furniture (including the stupid armoire with a curved top so there are no hand holds), six ice chests full of food (frozen and fresh), and countless loads of books and miscellaneous materials that I am pretty sure I am donating before we move again.
I am sore in muscles that I knew I had but had no intention of ever using. I have blisters. I have tripped twice and skinned my knee when my darling pup wrapped her leash around my legs as we were headed up the stairs. I hate those stairs.
However, I love the new flat. Having an oven big enough to hold a full size cookie sheet is totally worth the sore muscles.
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