The China Hutch

The China Hutch weighs roughly 3000 pounds.

And unlike other normal pieces of furniture it is not built out of ordinary wood. No, because that would be to simple. Instead of oak or maybe even walnut, it’s made out of some mysterious wood that I’m pretty sure is just hollow and filled with steel to make it even heavier.

For me, when I look at heavy things and then try to lift them, I often find myself thinking that it looked heavier than it actually was. This is not the case the China Hutch. This thing is way heavier than it looks. I think it is so heavy that it actually changes the gravity around it. That was such a crap joke, but seriously, it’s heavy.

It comes in a two piece arrangement where the top part, which is very heavy by the way, comes off from the bottom part, which is also very heavy. This makes it possible to lift something tremendously heavy not once, but twice, thus making my ever loving day.

And of course when something is heavy, what must you do with it? Why, move it around. Again, and again, and again, and again, and again. To summarize, the China Hutch has become the bane of my existence. I hate it so much.

The China Hutch was a gift from my mother in law to her daughter, Hossmom. I do not pretend that it was a gift to me or to “us” as that clearly isn’t the case. It is a punishment to me for something that I must have done 10 years ago and now don’t remember. In fact, I think that my wife’s whole family is in on this. They must hate me because they are communist pigs, that’s the only reason I can ever think of to hate Hossman.

My wife insisted on taking this China Hutch from her mother because her mother got a new China Hutch. I ask you, how many Hutches are to muches? Why do you even need one? Look at this thing. Come on, just look at it. It’s a big ass cabinet that you put dishes in. That’s it. That’s it’s purpose. Why not just use your kitchen cabinets, which are stationary I might add. Why do you have to have a whole different thing for the good china? I think t hat’s total crap. But I might be just a bit biased because I am the one that has to move it all the time.

I tried to point out to my wife that we don’t have any “fine” china to begin with unless you count the jalapeño looking plates we got from Bed Bath and Beyond. My wife informed me that we would be getting some fine china from her mother as well. To be stored in the already heavy Hutch. Shit.

We received the china hutch several years ago and it went in the kitchen. But my wife didn’t like it in the kitchen and neither my mother in law. My Mother in Law does this on occasion, re-arranges my house and furniture. I hate this because what it really means is that I have to move things to multiple places while my wife and Mother in Law just point. So let me rephrase that: My mother in law and wife like to point and make me move heavy stuff. They don’t rearrange. They point. All the “arranging” is done by yours truly.
At that point they decided that for now, until we get a bigger house, that the China Hutch should go in the spare bedroom. Of course what they refer to as the “spare” bedroom I refer to my office and situation room. It’s where I plan my world wide domination with my minion, Little Hoss. But I have found my life is much easier to just do what they point to and stop arguing, so I didn’t.

Until they pointed to the spare bedroom/office that just so happens to be located upstairs. Ok, so just so I get this straight. You want me to move this fucking thing up a flight of stairs and into my office. Tell me why I’m doing this again? That’s right, you guys pointed.

So I rounded up some buddies with some meat on their bones and up it went, into my office. I couldn’t use my sculpted like arms for a month afterwards, but up it went and all were happy. The story should end here. It should end with “And the China Hutch remained in the room until the end of time”. But that just wouldn’t be our style.

We were having our first kiddo, little hoss. We needed a nursery. Anyone want to guess what room was picked? That’s right, my office. So my wife and mother in law pointed yet again. To the other bedroom that we have. But at least that was only across the hall. For this job I didn’t need anyone else as I could just gradually shove it on the floor.

It took about 2 weeks but eventually it made it into that room, the true spare room. But because of Little Hoss it is now the guest bedroom, office—world domination center, and China Hutch storage. Everything was fine.

Then we got pregnant again. Honestly, if I would have thought this through I might have not wanted another kid, just because I have to move the China Hutch yet again. My wife pointed to the garage.

No fucking way. Nope, not going to do it. I’m not going to lift this fucking heavy ass soul killer down a flight of stairs and into my god damn garage. Not going to happen. Suck it, not going to do it.

Then I looked at my wife who was pregnant. How could I say no? I am no way giving up my garage for the china hutch. My last bastion of everything that is Hoss. And it’s not just the Hutch this time, it’s the entire room that has to go. Everything that was stored in there now has to go to my garage. That’s where I keep my tools and the last remnants of my balls. And now it is gone. It’s the only place left where I can keep my sports illustrated calendar and my Texas flag. It’s the only room that I get to decorate myself, with no interference and no “re-arranging”.

But the pregnant wife says it’s gotta go. But this time I call up my brother in law, my wife’s brother, to help me move this. Over the life span of the China Hutch I have lost a lot of my more muscle friends and I needed someone with size. That would be Uncle Bricksalesman. He was a power lifter so he can do this and I need someone that I can trust. Some of my other friends would buckle under the weight of this thing and leave me smushed like a bug on the floor. I have a family to feed and minions to direct, they need me.

Uncle Bricksalesman tried to get out of it at first. He made an excuse about a twisted knee or something like that. I wasn’t buying that. This was his sister and his mother pointing over here, no giddy up cowboy, help me move this thing.

My wife pestered him until he agreed to do it.

Prior to this, I suggested that perhaps, it is time to get rid of this fucking thing. That maybe, just maybe, it was time to just chunk it out the window. My wife’s whole family has come down on me on this. “But it’s worth a lot of money!” they would all say. “It’s a gift!” they would chant. This is why I’m pretty sure they all hate me. You can’t just throw it out. Of course I can, do you not even know me at all? I would have no problem putting this thing out on the curb and hoping that the meth neighbors pick it up and make a super bong out of it. I would be ok with that. But if just throwing it out does damage to your ethical values, fine, I’ll sell it to you.

As of right now, I will take 1 dollar for my China Hutch.

Until then, it sits in the middle of my garage, mocking me. I walk by it everyday thinking about how I can get rid of this thing before I have to haul it back up some stairs in some random house.

Today I got an idea. I think I am going to go home and give Little Hoss my hammer. I’m going to point to the China Hutch and tell her to go nuts. Then I’m going to walk away. She knows to make it look like an accident. My minions are coming along so fine. I will have plausible deniability and Little Hoss can’t talk yet so there is no way she can rat me out. Genius, pure genius. I can’t wait until we get into loan sharking.