I’m building my own crane and I’m going to hoist the couch up over my balcony with a little help from my friend(s). Came up with the design yesterday morning as I awoke. The conclusion that it will be faster and cheaper to do the job myself came to me after spending a few minutes with the movers I previously wrote about.
I spent all day Saturday waiting for ‘professionals’ to show up, and when they eventually did (four hours late), they wanted $30 more than what they quoted me, and they had no clue how to hoist a couch up over a balcony. They asked if I had the ropes and harnesses they would need. I told them to leave.
I need a mast, about 8′ tall with a boom 12′-16′ long. The tail end of the boom will anchor on the doorway entrance to the balcony. I’ll mount a block & tackle on the head of the boom. The whole thing will be stable as long as there’s tension on the boom. Once that couch is swung over the balcony rail however, the tension will disappear and the crane may possibly fall over. Need to figure out a solution to mount the mast on the floor of the balcony. I have some ideas. Perhaps the mast will be a tripod.
The wood will cost me $20 and I already purchased the block and tackle from Canadian Tire for $15. Frank said he’d help me assemble everything. I’ll need one other person. What could possibly go wrong?
The upside of all this waiting around for my couch situation to resolve itself, is that I am now 95% unpacked. My new place feels like a miniature cathedral with the tall ceiling and sunlight pouring in from every direction. The vibrations are good.
Still, I did feel unsettled for a spell. I spent all day Saturday moving about in my space, putting this here, and that there, and the whole time feeling something uneasy about all of it. Was it the money? My monthly expenses have doubled, but that didn’t really seem like the issue to me. I’m a talented filmmaker and writer doing something that impresses everyone, and that NO ONE can replicate easily. Competitive advantage. I’ll be alright.
Was my intuition warning me about some kind of bad juju surrounding the place? Was this the right move to make? Is my new landlord going to turn out to be an asshole? Is there a body buried in the backyard? None of those things resonated with me.
Then I thought of Frank – and then I thought of my old apartment and I felt a resounding affirmation that I figured it out. Frank’s place has been my entire Toronto experience – the only home away from home that I’ve ever known.
I moved there in November 2011 with whatever could fit in my car. Feels like a lifetime ago. I’ve come so far since then and here I am now – a brand new beginning.
I”m excited to see how this adventure will go.