There is a warning on most step ladders which warn the average consumer that it is not wise to venture beyond the next to the last step at the top. Like most average consumers, I have routinely disregarded this warning.
Cheryl and I spent this weekend at home. It was a weekend that we were supposed to spend with friends in Naples. Cheryl said she wasn’t feeling well all week, so we decided not to chance a long drive and a weekend away from our medical safety blanket. Little did I know that it was a week long ruse to keep me home for cheap outdoor labor. Friday night I’m settling into some really nice slouching, looking forward to a weekend of sports and relaxation when Cheryl drops her bomb. “John, don’t you want to get started tonight, you’ve got a lot to do this weekend.”
Lucky for me, I went out and got my anti- yard work booster shot. Actually, it came in a series of three.
I went out on Saturday morning to get a start on my forced labor. I was working on ways I could get out of this heinous duty, wondering how I could excuse myself without stirring up a hornet’s nest… when I stirred up a hornet’s nest (actually, it was probably wasps). I was standing on top of my step ladder, cleaning out the gutters on the front of my house, when it suddenly felt like I had been run through by some kind of sharp impediment, just below my knee. At that point I did what any of you would have done, I started flapping wildly at my leg and at invisible bugs in the air as my body descended towards the ground. Somehow managing to land on my feet, I felt a second sharp pain just below the first. Picture my likely reaction… me slapping at my legs as I high-tail it away from my ladder, through the front yard. Take out the cursing, the ladder and the bushes and this would have made a fine slavic dance routine. When it was finally over I had three stings on my leg which were swelling up like a picture in a dermatologist’s text book. Ten minutes later the pain was still with me and Cheryl was trying to convince Beth that she should play outside for a while (I think it probably had something to do with me bringing my dance routine in doors).
After a phone call to the nurse on call and swallowing a heaping helping of Benadryl and Tylenol, I was resting peacefully on the couch again. Ah, the lengths one will go to, to find a little peace and quiet on a Saturday morning.