Victorious But Laborious

(My boyfriend is helping me move. I live in a second floor walk-up.)

Boyfriend: “So, what’s next?”

Me: “Um, probably the plastic dresser.”

(The plastic dresser is a three-drawer storage chest. Due to a shortage of boxes, the drawers have been packed full and then taped shut. He appears to be having some trouble.)

Me: “Do you need my help?”

Boyfriend: “I’ve got it. I just can’t quite figure out how to pick it up. It’s unwieldy more than actually heavy. Hang on.”

(He finally gets a grip and lifts it.)

Boyfriend: “Victory is mine!” *starts off down the stairs*

Me: “Wait, how are you going to open—”

Boyfriend: “Oh, crap, a door.”

Me: “Yeah, that.”