One of my Dust and Light tasks yesterday was to pick up more sand (i.e. go down to the beach and bail it into garbage bags). Now, seeing as how I was, you know, stealing sand from a beach, I thought I would be smart and go to a more secluded beach where I could avoid unnecessary embarrassment. Unfortunately, I didn’t think about the fact that the parking lot for this beach is at the top of a rather large cliff. That means, of course, that to get down to the beach (and consequently back up to my car) one must take four, yes four, flights of stairs. This occurs to me as I am putting the sand in the bags, so I am careful not to fill the bags too full. Or so I think. But once I have the bags all tied up, I discover a valuable lesson that should have been learned in the kindergarten schoolyard. Sand is heavy. In fact, sand is friggin’ heavy. But still, I’m pretty sure that I can drag them up the stairs. So I drag the first one along the beach and start heaving it up the stairs one step at a time. I know I look ridiculous, and I think to myself, “gee, I sure am glad this beach is empty”. And at that moment, like a scene out of a bad chick flick, a crowd of people starts walking down the stairs. It isn’t long before there are people literally pointing and laughing. Now, at this point, I’m not helping myself much, because I’m laughing too, and that’s making it harder to haul the sand.
When I’m about halfway up the third flight, I notice that it seems to be getting easier. Being the intelligent masters-level student that I am, I assume that means I’ve found a technique that works. Then I hear one of the ‘pointers’ laugh and say, “Look at the stairs behind her”. I’m pretty sure ‘her’ is ‘me’, so I look back to find progressively larger clumps of dirt on each step. I could, at this point, just admit defeat and empty out some of the remaining sand so I could at least get some into the bucket in my car, but, once again, a stubborn spirit outweighs sound judgment, and I continue lugging the bag up the stairs.
For the second bag, I decide to try to carry it up the stairs in my arms. Unfortunately, I’m about as sturdy as I look, and the weight of the sand is a bit too much for my equilibrium to handle. So, instead of leaving a trail of sand behind me, this time I weave to and fro like a sailor on leave. Once again, my giggles are not helpful.
Thus my pride was sacrificed to Dust and Light, which, come to think of it, is somewhat fitting. If anyone wants to help me Shop-Vac my car, you can pop by anytime.
