Okay. Yes, so I didn’t think this out very well. Carrying 20 pounds of clean drycleaning, with metal hangers poking into my skin for a 50 minute commute on two trains and a bus, and then carrying it up four flights of stairs, was a VERY bad idea and an excruciating exercise in frustration mixed with pain.
Ouch. I think I will have little metal imprints in my skin for days. I get into the apartment, relieved to be home, but discouraged by the site of boxes and toss the drycleaning onto the bed. I weave my way to the closet and pull out hangers and re-hang my clothes. I collect all the plastic and paper wrappers and take them down 5 flights of stairs and out them in the garbage.
By the time I get back to my apartment I am EXHAUSTED. It hurts to think. So I flop onto the bed, grab a sheet. I pull the sheet under my chin. My hands are dry from the cleaning products despite wearing gloves. I really should moisturize. But I really want to escape and I close my eyes for a late afternoon nap.