Dragging my wheels

So it was only 2 billion degrees outside and Paul says, here, drag these wheels out to the white trailer and come back.  I squinted through my sun glasses which were becoming sort of molten on my face, and said: um, ok. 

I turned to ask him whether I was dragging in full Egyptian slave-mode, or pulling backwards with my shoulder blades.  But Paul had ducked back into the A/C to do something that involved his returning into the A/C.

The effect of the heat on me was already obvious since my question was pretty inane.  There was no way I was going to successfully drag those wheels across the parking lot using any method other than that of grimly bent-over slave.

My sun-induced delirium produces imaginary co-workers

As I trudged under the flaming ball of gas and flame that we often refer to as "the sun", sweat trickling down my neck, I suddenly remembered the slave in The Ten Commandments whose clothing gets stuck under one of the blocks being dragged to the pyramid.  He gets dragged along and is eventually crushed by the stone.  So I'm wondering how he got sucked under the stone - like did his leg go first and then the rest of him followed?  Or did the stone just slowly scrape away and shred him to death?

I finally reached the white trailer and didn't bother to reach out a hand to touch it:  I just bent forward and banged the top of my head on it (my melting brain sloshed inside.)  I did a big turn and started back, hugging the wee bit o'shade behind the parked cars.

Plodding like a plow-horse toward the air-conditioned gym, I returned to my morbid thoughts of the crushed Egyptian slave.  I thought, how thirsty the stone-haulers must have been in the desert, and how thirsty I am, and, will I be able to reach my water before I dehydrate, and, if I dehydrate and crumple like a raisin on the ground, will my hands be locked in a pit-bull death grip on the straps and

"Hey!" Paul's smiling voice sounded in my ear, "How's it going? Ha ha."  Little puffs of chilled air still floated around him.

If my eyes hadn't been seared nearly closed, they would have jumped out of my head.  Clearly, the flaming air rising from the pavement had affected my ability to hear even Paul approaching.

I'm going to get my iced tea. And a cookie. Pull faster while I'm gone.

And I'm sure it was the heat-induced delirium that generated the interesting but unsavory images that flitted through my mind at that moment.  I was bloody well focused on getting those screeching wheels back to the door, but I took a breath to point out that he really ought to remember that the slaves eventually rebelled and did in all the overseers who had been carried around in litters fanning themselves.

Paul: Ha ha!  Ok, when you finish, we'll do some lifting.

Me:

Me:

Me:

Paul is lucky that he wasn't wearing any long rags that could have gotten tangled in my wheels.