'The true Soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because He loves what is behind him.' -G. K. Chesterton

03 May 2013

Buffoonery

As many of you know I am a bit....accident prone. I tend to fall off things and generally hurt myself like I have a grudge against me. I've always thought I was maybe just passive aggressive toward myself but lately I've come to suspect I may actually be stupid.

So the other day Lu and I were in the covered porch putting in a ceiling fan and a light fixture. No problem, right in my wheelhouse. The fan went in neat as can be and it was time for the light fixture. All was well until I had to make a critical decision; what part of my body to try and get between my more important bits and the concrete floor. Let me explain.

Take a look at this picture.


On the right we see a step ladder. On the left we see a wooden box set up on end so it's even less stable than one would otherwise suspect. Which one would you choose to stand on while working on a ceiling fixture? Of course the box. Right? Right?

See, I was actually doing the wrong thing and using that step ladder even though the box was right there. At one point I needed to get to a screw on the opposite side that I was working on. And that box was right there, looking all platformish and everything. I could have gotten down and moved the ladder but that would have meant walking down two steps and then lifting the ladder, that clearly weighs many hundreds of grams, moving it to a completely new location at least three feet from where it was and then going back up the two steps. And again, the box was right there doing absolutely nothing to assist in my endeavor to bring light to dark places. Talk about slacking. So I decided that the easiest, indeed the best, thing to do was to step from the ladder to the box. What could possibly go wrong?

As I put one foot on the box I noticed that it was actually a little wobbly. Not in that 'Weebils Wobble But They Don't Fall Down' way but rather in an alarming way if one possesses an ounce of common sense. Which I am happy to say I do not. Common Sense is not Manly after all and I am nothing if not a slave to social norms. Alarum notwithstanding.

One foot now firmly ensconced on the box I began to put more weight on it, preparatory to transferring the bulk of my...bulk onto it. I must admit that the box not only continued to show that it was less than pleased at the idea of trying to bear my weight but actually began to oscillate slightly, as if it were a very small horse being confronted by a very fat rider. I am almost certain I heard a disembodied voice saying "You have got to be kidding!"

Undeterred and trusting to my cat like reflexes honed over decades of drinking beer while watching the X Games, I continued the process of stepping onto The Box as I have since come to think of it. At one point I had most of my weight on The Box and was just beginning to lift my trailing foot for the final move that would see me triumphantly standing upright upon The Box and in position to get at that recalcitrant screw without having to get down and move the ladder when disaster struck. Totally and, I'd like to stress this point, without any warning at all except for the wild gyrations and aforementioned tiny horse bucking motions.

As I stepped fully onto it, The Box began to sway to and fro and then suddenly toppled and generally collapsed. As it did so I found myself suspended in the air, Wily Coyote like, and had time to consider mistakes made and my imminent demise. It's funny how time slows down when one has committed a buffoonery of that magnitude. One that is certainly going to be at the very least painful if not downright hazardous. There I was, hanging in the air with nothing below me except a whole lotta empty and facing sharp, hurty things on the nice hard concrete floor. If I'd had a sign saying "EGADS" I'd have had plenty of time to deploy it before disappearing in a small cloud of fear, regret and exclamation points. I even had time for a nice long contemplative interior monologue with myself. It involved me, my Common Sense and my Ego with my ID and Super Ego off to one side taking bets on the outcome.

Me: Ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap!
Ego: Oh Man, I hope Lu isn't looking because this is really gonna make us look like goobers.
Common Sense (CP): I told you this was a bad idea!
Ego: Oh great. Now you show up. Where were you a minute ago when this disaster could have been avoided?
CS: Hey, I was busy. You try and pay attention to everything while this oaf works around electricity. I had better things to do what with the whole trying to keep us from being electrocuted thing and all. Besides, you know he doesn't like me and never listens to my words of wisdom. The putz.
Ego: Great. You saved us from having a bad hair day when we don't even have any hair and now we're about to make a nice fat hole in that concrete floor with our body. Nice work genius.
CS: You can criticize or you can join me in unconsciousness 'cause this is really gonna hurt.
Ego: Right. Off we go.
ID: Four to One he cries.
Super Ego: Five to One he cries and pees himself!
Me: Ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap!

My subconscious voices having taken a powder it was now up to my still conscious self to deal with my impending doom. All the way down to the ground the only thing I could do was to wonder what my obituary was going to say.

Local bald man loses life in hilarious buffoonery. Wife confirmed to be mortified with embarrassment. "I always knew he'd go that way. What a Maroon." she is said to have remarked.

Finally, almost mercifully,  I came crashing back down to earth. The world shuddered.  I could see a mushroom cloud of dust rising to the heavens in a surprisingly body like shape and hear the sound of various objects I had taken with me on my meteoric descent striking the concrete around me. I lay there for a minute, contemplating the state of my body and wondering if my wife had witnessed the scene and if she was horrified. I needn't have worried. I heard a soft voice cut through the haze of distress and chagrin. "You Ok there Evel?" I am quite certain I heard a tinge of laughter.

See, Lu has learned, over a lifetime of watching me hurt myself in various incredible and humor inducing ways, to look for certain signs of real injury. Limbs misaligned, stuff sticking out where such isn't supposed to be and blood actively spurting from large, open wounds. Absent those things chances are high that I've suffered little more than bruises to both body and pride. Many is the time she's remarked, "Um, you know you're bleeding right?" Only to have me say "I am? Where?" Followed by a quick search for the offending bleeding body part and her pointing it out with raised eyebrows and an exasperated huff. Yeah, she doesn't even bat an eye any more. Except to giggle of course because what's a truly spectacular catastrophe without the attending laughter such engenders?

I lay on the ground for a few minutes, gratefully considering that I had yet again cheated the Grim Reaper and survived another madcap misadventure. I managed to roll myself over and regain my feet, there to check myself over and conform that the worst had indeed been avoided. Yep, all bits still attached and generally pointing in the correct direction. Various twinges and scrapes but it seemed that I would live to again tempt fate at some future date. Hopefully not too soon. Lu was standing near, offering a helping hand and striving heroically not to laugh out loud. And mostly failing. She did take me into the house, put me in my chair and deliver a handful of Tylenol. She even cooed at me the rest of the day and inquired as to my state of being several times. I of course maintained my manly facade and resisted all temptations to milk the situation for more sympathy than I was due. That limp was totally not faked, I swear. I only cried a little and never peed myself even once. I think my Super Ego is out five bucks so there's that.

So in spite of suffering yet another calamity that was totally not my fault I have learned a great and profound lesson from all this. Next time I get it right. Next time I listen to my Common Sense. Next time failure is not an option.

Next time I start from the box.

What could possibly go wrong?

Six

18 comments:

Monkeywrangler said...

OMG! LOL! But, to be a truly Wile E. Coyote moment, the light fixture and then the fan would've had to fall onto your head, after you impacted the concrete floor.

Glad you are not seriously injured.

Vic303

Coop said...

Damn, that sounded painful... I hate that moment when everything slows down and you just know that its not going to end well.

a couple years ago, I'm walking out the back step with an armful of cardboard for the recycling... WAY too much to carry to a point that I can't see where I'm going. But it was 10 degrees and I was in a hurry. Turns out that I neglected to account for the ice on the back steps. I made the the top step and the next thing I know I'm looking up at the sky, the boxes are suspended in mid-air, then I see my feet entering the picture and all I'm thinking is "brace for impact". I landed on the deck 4 steps down and I laid there for a few minutes, covered in cardboard... making sure there wasn't any severe shooting pain. My legs were caught under me and being slightly disoriented I couldn't get them free. I had to call my wife on my cell phone to come outside to help me up. To this day she won't let me be alone outside without looking out the window every 15-20 minutes to makes sure I'm still vertical.

Rev. Paul said...

So why can't we have rapid-fire thoughts & reflexes like that, when our lives aren't in danger?

That may be the best description of the thought process (which occurs on only those occasions) that I've ever read ... while laughing so hard I nearly hurt myself. :)

Keads said...

Dude. Your adventures are hilarious to READ about. Not live through. BE careful, OK?

innominatus said...

All kinds of LOL throughout the reading of this. I notice that your ID/Ego/Superego argue the same way mine do: when all is well, it is the first-person "I" and "we" but when the crap is hitting the fan, it all becomes "You!" "You!" "You!"

Six said...

Thanks guys. Yep, another day in the life of Six, the Super Oaf. Luckily The fan and light fixture didn't fall on my head and all the owies seem to be healing nicely. I'm still not getting a lot of sympathy from Lu. I think she knows me too well :)

RabidAlien said...

ROTFLMBO!!!

BTDT. My inner monologue usually runs to just a resigned "well....crap."

Paladin said...

Glad you're OK! Looking at the picture I can see where the problem was. The propane bottles would have been the better choice. Theres one for each foot :)

OldAFSarge said...

Okay Six. Two hysterical posts in a row. You have a gift for humor my friend. Laughing so hard my sides hurt funny. That's you. Don't stop ever. Please.

Old NFO said...

ROTF... BTDT, STILL waiting for the common sense to come back from vacation!!!

NavyOne said...

Yikes, you gotta be careful. (Is it so wrong if I chuckled over it?)

Brighid said...

Your Awesomely Funny, love your tales of "what was I thinking".
Stay healthy~

Six said...

Thanks you guys. Best not to encourage me lest I keep it up!

instinct said...

Obviously that box is defective and should be replaced with a different one.

Six said...

I need to sue someone Instinct. I think it's the Army!

agirlandhergun said...

I am really am sorry for your misadventures, but I do love reading about them:)

Jennifer said...

As much as I enjoy reading about your special talents, be careful with yourself. (Says the girl who had a mighty battle with a garden shelf that left an impressive scar.)
I tend to favor wobbly boxes and the occasional glass table for standing on. I'm short and stubborn and thus prone to climb.

Evyl Robot Michael said...

And you did the right thing: posted it here so we could all laugh at your misfortune. Because to do otherwise is just a waste of a good injury! I'm glad to hear that you didn't seriously hurt yourself.