I Was Thinking About Something Else

That pretty much sums up my life nowadays. I will be doing something, walking into a room or driving, and I will go askew. Someone will inevitably ask at that same moment, "What are you doing?". Which will confuse me and I can only respond, "Yeah, well...I was thinking about something else".

(formerly A Connecticut Yankee)

Location: Connecticut, United States

People you should read

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

What'd I Do?

For the past couple of weeks I've been in physical danger. I'm pretty sure I know who's behind it. I'm afraid it's, well...me.

It began when I saw "Unbreakable" on TV. I enjoy the movie quite a bit, so I also recorded it, and watched various parts later. Yes, I think it's a good one. Since that initial airing though, there have been a series of events that all seem to test the idea that I myself am "Breakable". For your consideration:

Shortly after the first viewing, for the first time since I was four years old I fell out of bed. You may think "Rick" (or you can insert a name you prefer, just please not 'Scooter' or 'Todd'), what's the big deal? You fell out of bed. No big whoop. Well friends, let me tell ya, the top of my mattress is a little over 3 and a half feet above floor level (I like it that way, fuck off) and that would not be a problem. Oh, except that I also just happen to have one of them hard plastic milk crates on the floor next to the bed, filled with papers and books and such. I will never really know how it went down, so to speak, it was more like I was thrown overboard because the force with which my left leg hit the milk crate was enough to shatter the crate. That sharp son of a bitch cut actual discernable patterns in my leg as the crate disintergrated. That hurt big time, but on the upside it was basic scratching and no gashing wounds.

The second incident, if you will, involves the traditional homeowner practice of cleaning gutters. No, there were no ladders involved. I did not slip and go careening towards the Earth as some might prefer the imagery of flailing arms and girl-level screaming. No, not that day. It was about a week later and everything went pretty well. I can access the roof of my porch from a second floor window. The trouble began with negotiating re-entry into the house. Without the brutal contortionist-like recreation and an indepth explanation of the magic of non-twenty year old physiology, suffice to say I opted for an incorrect decision at a critical juncture and overextended the credit line of my left knee.

Recovery of the knee one gets better every day, but still, "son-of-a-bitch!"

I'm not trying to kid anyone. I know I'm "Breakable".


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home