Posts Tagged ‘Accidents’

Inspired By A Recent Purchase Of Mine

January 4, 2022

As much as I hate to say it, you probably are accident prone when your friends start unironically gifting you things like band-aids and non-slip sauna shoes.

My Mobility Is Impaired. I Cannot Move (Without Pain)

August 21, 2018

Over the weekend while moving a small (empty) book shelf an inch or so forward away from the wall to see if anything had fallen behind it, I participated in an unscheduled gravity check.

Unsurprisingly, gravity still works, as proven when the shelves gave way and landed on my foot (primarily my big toe).  The shelves were only particle board, so I seem to have escaped with nothing worse than bruising, but I’ll be limping for a while.

But if you have any concerns at all on the status of gravity, I can assure you that it’s still working fine in my part of the world.

Guess Which One Was More Important To Me

October 3, 2013

Look, I’m just not one of those people who views adversity and/or misfortune as a “growth opportunity.”  I have no problems conceding the possibility of good things coming out of adversity, but that’s just never been enough for me to thank the person who stole my car for giving me the opportunity for more exercise walking.

Even so, I’ve done my best to take to heart the idea of looking for the strawberry as I’m about to fall from the cliff.

Today’s “cliff” came in the form of an entire drawer falling from the refrigerator door as I closed it, a drawer containing primarily barbecue sauce, ketchup, various hot sauces, and (for good measure) pomegranate juice . . . all in glass containers.

As the contents shattered and splashed everywhere, the only thing I could think to utter was “wow,” a word repeated by L’s mother once she saw the crimson tide spreading across the kitchen tiles.

So in the hour or so it took for me to do the “quick” cleanup (because L’s mother was only available to watch L. for so long), I had ample opportunity to look for the “strawberry” amidst the glass shards floating in my kitchen’s private version of the Red Sea, and, eventually, as I pondered the bloody-looking rivulets which had formed in the tile’s grout, I found not one, but two.

I’d been meaning to clear that drawer for a while anyway, I told myself.  And besides, if I ever need to describe what the aftermath of the barbecue of the damned, hosted by some of the worst cannibalistic killers of history and fiction, looks like, I know exactly what it looks like now!