In Which Street Signs Are Important

This is the story of how Stephanie and I got a thirty pound chalkboard home to my house without the help of a man. 

On Saturday, we went to the Flea. About twenty minutes after we arrived, I stopped Fiance and Stephanie mid-stride and exclaimed "LOOK AT THAT CHALKBOARD WE HAVE TO GET IT!". And there it was, literally the chalkboard I had been wishing for. Gigantically beautiful with a wood frame and only $75!

Because I am the most indecisive person in the world though, I made Fiance tell the man who owned the chalkboard that we would be back in a little bit. So we walked around (and ate some treats) and I angst-ed. "$75 seems like a lot of money for a chalkboard," I thought. But I loooooved it and I had more than enough cash in my bag. I looked at Fiance, told him I wanted it and off we went back to the man who owned the chalkboard.

As we were talking to the man about how to hang the thing (Fiance did this part, let's not pretend I know anything about hanging anything) it dawned on me that Stephanie and I would have to get this home alone. Fiance had plans with friends in Queens at 3:00. It was 2:15 and he was scheduled to get on the subway in less than 15 minutes.

Seeing the look of terror on my face, the chalkboard man told me that the Flea does deliveries! "PHEW" I thought, "I do not have to haul this bad boy home!" He called the delivery guys who showed up and asked me where I lived. I told them, and they told me that it was going to cost $50 to have it delivered. At 9:00PM that night.

No. No, sir am I giving you $50 to put this thing in a van and walk in up four steps into my living room. $75 is totally acceptable but $125 is wholly unacceptable.

He gave me his card "in case I changed my mind" and off he went, leaving me, Fiance, Stephanie, and my new purchase. "It'll be fine," Fiance said. "Can I take it on the subway?" I asked. Stephanie thought yes, but then I realized that the entrance to the subway was not one of those happy around your hip turnstiles. NO it was one of those aggressive full body bar revolving situations. There was NO WAY this thing was getting through that. 

So Stephanie and I bid farewell to Fiance and walked out of the Flea with this receipt in hand. The plan? Oh it was simple, you see. Take the subway home, get my car, drive back to the Flea, park (ha!), get the chalkboard out of the Flea, into my car, drive home, park (ha again), and carry the chalkboard into my house.
Let's ignore how Chalkboard is spelled for now, OK? 

Now would be a good time to discuss with you how I feel about driving in my new neighborhood.

I hate it. WHY DO SO MANY PEOPLE RIDE BICYCLES? And why does every child from the age of 18 months to 18 years ride a goddamn scooter? IN THE STREET WITHOUT A HELMET? The whole thing gives me immense anxiety however I managed to get me and Stephanie safely back to Fort Greene after our subway ride. Totally calmly and safely.

Until I had to look for a parking spot.

And I drove the wrong way down a one way street. There I said it.

It happened. It happened and my Grandfather, driver of all things Brooklyn, is laughing at me from heaven. Do you know what is worse than driving the wrong way down a one way street? Doing so and only realizing AFTER you have screamed at the person driving towards you to "Stay on their side of the road" that it is a one way street. And whoops, a man on a bicycle taps nicely on your window to tell you you're going the wrong way. Oh, and the car you just screamed at? It is about 50 years old with pealing paint and has four dozen balloons tied to its trunk. And then, THE DELIVERY MAN WHO YOU TOLD YOU WOULD NOT GIVE $50 TO TELLS YOU TO BACK UP AND TURN AROUND. And his face clearly told me that I should have changed my mind and called him.

Could I make this shit up?

But we did it. We got it in the car, and I drove us home and we finally found a parking spot. Did I mention the outfit Stephanie wore while helping me lug this thing home? She out dresses me always.

And then on Monday night Fiance hung it! He used a power drill and a level on his iPhone and I stood there and pretended to help, even though we both knew I wasn't helping at all.

Having a Fiance who is strong I think is having one who is weak. Because then when you try to help him lift something or hold something and you are not doing your part (because you have no upper body strength) he says things like "Is this really that heavy for you?" and then just lifts the whole thing by himself. And you feel like a sorry excuse for an empowered woman. But at the same time are thrilled because you don't really want to lift anything.

Doesn't it look great? Its on the floor now because we didn't think it was sturdy enough and Fiance wanted to buy stronger mounting (whatever that means) so now it is leaning against that wall. But the important thing to remember in this whole story is: You need to pay attention to signs because they tell you when a street is only one way. Also more important: Stephanie and I are BAMFs.

End Story.

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