Gladiators

From the perspective of our old premises, our move is complete; the building is empty; the vacuum cleaner that I used to spruce up the offices is in for some life-saving servicing at the vacuum repair shop and the pigeons are undisturbed in the rafters. We even dismantled our mail box and put banners on the building proclaiming our new location.
From the perspective of our new home, much remains to be accomplished. Let's leave it at that, for now.
During our transition we had help from various people whom I came to think of as My Gladiators. They waded into the arena of battle day after day right beside us.
There were items to be broken down, recycle what may, and taken to the dump; there were fragile but oversized construction-art antiquities to be handled with care; there were load, after load, after load of stone slabs and miscellaneous materials and we capped it all with a voyage for our bridge-saw; hanging 4 ft (1m20) over each side of the truck bed and too tall to pass under the freeway.
Our plan had been to move it when traffic and authorities were least likely to be disturbed but it all came together at commute time on a Friday evening. I tore up the office curtains to make instant red-flags (burgundy/brown but it's the thought that counts) and off they went, the long way around, with an interminable conga-line of understanding (?) motorists in-tow.
Our greatest achievement of the move was that no-one was injured or killed. There were times when I had to leave as some of the unorthodox maneuvers involved multiple fork-lifts, chains and scary crashing and banging noises. When things are beyond my control it is better that I have faith and walk away. No good would be served by my staying and I would find out soon enough in the case of a catastrophe.