Off The Chain

You may remember My Chain.

You probably have your own chain. You know – those projects you have to do before you can do the one you really want to do. They all build on each other. If you don’t remember My Chain, (And you were too lazy to click the link I conveniently put there in the first sentence. And again here. (My God, how lazy are you??)) here it is: 

  1. Spackle walls in the garage and build shelves
  2. Sell the stuff in my basement and move the rest to the new garage shelves
  3. Move the pool table from the dining room to the basement
  4. Tile the dining room floor
  5. Install the wood floor in the living room and kitchen
  6. Install a kick ass kitchen
  7. Cook something. Or maybe just heat something up.

Projects one and two were addressed in this post, but we all know how lazy you are, so here are a few pics so you don’t have to click that link I just put there. (Because I’m doing all of this work here, but God forbid you click a link…)

This brings us to item number 3 in the chain: Move the pool table to the basement.

I never told you the story of how I came to own a pool table in the first place. It’s a fascinating story…

Once upon a time, there was a pool table for sale. And I bought it.

The end.

It was a whole production to get it to my house. Luckily, most people are usually not busy on weekends and they jump at the chance to move something really heavy for free, so it was no problem getting help. I built this amazing ramp the night before to help facilitate the move:

So, basically, the procedure was as follows:

  1. Tilt the table on its side onto dollies (the kind with wheels, not plastic babies)
  2. Remove the legs
  3. Wheel it onto a trailer
  4. Drive to my house
  5. Wheel it off the trailer
  6. Wheel it up my amazing ramp
  7. Put the legs back on
  8. Un-tilt the table
  9. Go to Outback Steakhouse for sangria

Fast forward to now: the table has been sitting there in my dining room for nearly a year. My basement has been empty since July. If only I were a Jedi and I could just float it down the steps using the power of The Force, (OMG! I can’t wait for the new Star Wars movie!!!) but, alas, I am not a Jedi. I’m just a regular Princess. I had to ask for help yet again. (And you know how I hate that.)

As you might imagine, moving a pool table down stairs is a bit more difficult than wheeling it around on dollies. It weighs about a kajillion pounds. I took the rails off so the slate could be moved separately. That made the job not that much easier.

I didn’t take pictures of the actual move because I was too busy staying the hell out of the way and hoping my crappy stairs didn’t fall apart under the weight of the kajillion pounds, but here it is all reassembled in its forever home.

Welcome to the Hotel California, pool table. You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

So, what’s next? Dining room tile! I’m totally into it now and, let me tell you, it’s freaking hard.  I was warned (by pretty much everyone I talked to) not to attempt to do this project by myself, but did I listen? Of course not. How’s it coming out? Well, you’ll just have to wait and see…

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