TAKING THE FALL

Being a homeowner has responsibilities. One of them is repairing little things around the house.

The other day TLW (The Little Woman) complained to me that the hinge in our foyer closet was coming loose. It seems the screw was coming loose. (OK, you always knew I had a screw loose… AND am becoming unhinged. ha ha!)

I get out my closet hinge screwdriver and start screwing around when I discover my arm is getting tired from raising it over my head so long, so I go into my garage and pull out a stepstool. I take it to the scene of repair and finish the job of screwing around and perhaps screwing up the job.

I fold up the footstool and head to the garage again, and place the thing in its designated place, turn to leave and loose my balance, suddenly finding myself falling uncontrollably and sailing across the garage about 12 feet! Coming down I land on top of the open tool chest I have on the floor, crashing on top of it chest and stomach first! I lay there disoriented and confused wondering why, and concern that maybe something in the tool chest was sticking up and caught me in the stomach. I lie there for a few moments and don’t feel any pain anywhere, except that fact that I fell. As I am raising myself, I see some blood on my hand and think I must have cut myself, but can’t find the source of blood.

All better!

I rise slowly and awkwardly, and when I do I see blood on my pants and hand and then spot the right elbow scrapped like I used to when I was a little kid. I wash it off and sit in my recliner, mad at myself for being so clumsy, TLW comes home and asks what happened, did I hurt myself and gets me a bandage and ointment for the elbow. (I think that is better than my Mommy kissing my boo-boo to make it all better.)

Getting old is not hard, it is being old that is hard, and I took the fall, once again? I think that if a screwdriver was pointing upward, or a utility knife in that toolbox, I might be wearing it the way I landed!