So, i won round one of the apartment war, but just barely. Basically, it got to the point where i needed to walk the larger object to the door and all of the smaller objects were in front of the door. I don’t have an exact recollection of what happened, but it was something like “Hulk not like clutter! Hulk smash!,” and the next thing i knew i had lifted my bureau clear over my head and was wading through a pile of sheet music (which is omnipresent wherever i live) & neck ties (not all packed, as it turns out) out towards the living room. Don’t ask me how i lifted it over my head (i took the drawers out, but it was still plenty heavy, not to mention unweildly), or how i fit it through my tiny hallway (which also was inhabited by a coffee table and a floor lamp at the time), or how it wound up in line for escape right between my battered black desk and my couch. All it know is, there is a line of furniture as deep as my apartment all queued up and ready to roll.
(Meanwhile, i don’t even want to contemplate the couch… all i remember is that it took grown two men (who weighed nearly four times as much as i did at the time) half an hour to get it up three flights of stairs. I have the vague recollection that it involved a lot of spacial geometry and machismo, neither of which i seem to be in possession of today (“Hulk Smash” interlude excluded, of course). And, it’s a damned ugly couch, too.)