Stupid boys being stronger than girls. When Phillip carried my writing desk down to the basement by himself to make room for the tree three weeks ago, he made it look like it was a desk constructed of plastic. Light, airy butterfly-wing plastic.

I almost threw my back out carrying it up the stairs today after disposing of the tree. And I'm no Scrawny Sally. In the words of John Myers' dad, I'm a big, strong Pennsylvania working girl. (Not THAT kind of working girl. Perv.)

Oh well. My back will be telling me the whole sad tale tomorrow. But it's nice to have the writing desk back.

Now if I could just find my living room floor...rumor had it there WAS a living room floor...