No good place to put this, so I'mma just leave it here.
Mr. Clod bought a new table saw. Big ol' fucker, I don't even know how many hundreds of pounds. Instructions said "it ships on its side for safety, here's how to properly maneuver it into a vertical position once the freight guy unloads it from the truck--you know, with his ramps and his dolly and all that professional jazz."
Except it wasn't delivered, it was put into the back of Mr. Clod's truck at the woodshop. So he got home, then asked himself, "Hmm, how am I going to transfer this down 4 feet to the ground? Because I do not have ramps or a commercial dolly, etc." Neighbor swung by, said he'd help, but the thing turned out to be far heavier than either anticipated, and they barely got it moved laterally over to the top of the work bench before becoming dangerously tired. They set it down to rest, and the neighbor said, "Cool, that was fun, gotta go."
Next thing I know, he texts me from the garage for help. I come out to find the damn thing suspended with ratchet straps from the fucking ceiling, the corners barely holding on.
Long story short, it got lowered down to the ground and is fine now. But goddamn. I can't believe I'm still not a widow by now.
