Get a Leg Up

"Help!", she screamed. This could only mean that once again she had gotten herself into some inescapable predicament.

I tracked her voice to the top of our basement stairs where I was greeted not by my wife, but the bottom of a folding card table with all its legs extended.

We were preparing for a little Independence Day party and needed to bring some things up from the basement. Like the table.

She was leaning backwards trying not to fall while simultaneously keeping the table legs from scratching our newly painted basement walls. She found out too late that the table would not fit through the door to the first floor without folding the legs and was trying valiantly to wrestle it through.

As she held the table and I folded the legs down, I asked her why she just didn't fold the legs up first.

"That's too much work!", she barked.