Brian and I moved John’s sofa to his new apartment the cowboy way. We hog tied the couch with nylon rope, then tossed the other ends up to the second story balcony. John and I hauled up the hefty piece of furniture, hand over hand. The rope burns still smart, but it worked.
I did experience one frightening moment of doubt. The couch was aloft about twelve feet in the air, swaying on the ropes, and my strength started to give. I could feel the nylon slipping between my sweaty hands, my end of the couch sliding lower. I called for help and Brian, who had been guiding us from the first floor, put out his cigarette and joined me at the rope. The three of us together heaved that sofa up onto the railing and over, like a giant metal crab pot.
Moving heavy furniture is surely a sport of its own, with its own rewards and tests. I think John owes the 3rarm a sit on that sofa! Roper-slung!