I get hurt a lot. Physically, that is.
I do; I get hurt a lot.
I fall down a lot.
I stub my toes a lot.
I burn my hands a lot on hot things like stoves and fireplaces.
My body almost always sports things like goose eggs, cuts, bruises, black eyes, blackened fingernails and toenails.
I'm a klutz.
And I think I'm a klutz because I am constantly doing something. I don't sit still. And when I'm doing something, I get really involved with what I'm doing and become oblivious to anything else. And so, because of this tunnel vision of mine, I often become a hazard to myself: falling off of ladders, nearly cutting my leg off with chainsaws, hitting myself in the head with a hammer (long story...), eating a moldy donut (Don't ask.), and now my latest misadventure that nearly landed me in the hospital.
(By the way did you know that the word 'donut' used to spelled differently when I was a kid? Uh-huh! It used to be spelled 'doughnut'. Also the word 'often' used to be pronounced 'offen' with a silent "T". Every living language is constantly in flux. Living languages, in order to stay relevant, are constantly bringing in new words, throwing out old ones, changing the spellings of existing words and altering the meanings of words. In medieval times, the word 'villain' meant 'farmer'. If you said that someone was 'sly' you meant that they were 'smart'. The word 'medieval' didn't exist in medieval times. But this is all fodder for a different blog post.)
Last week, I was out in my side yard cutting up a huge tree that had fallen down during the Halloween snowstorm last year. (Yeah. I'm just getting around to doing it. Okay with YOU? Been kinda busy this past year with trivial things such as spousal death and shit, okay?)
So anyhow, this tree must be three feet in diameter at it's base, and my chainsaw was going through it like crap through a distressed goose.
When I had chunked it up into four-foot movable parts, I put the saw down, and began rolling the heavy logs out of the thick brush so that I could finish cutting them up in more clear and safe surroundings.
Unbeknownst to me, underneath one of these four-foot sections of dead tree was a live fir tree that had been pinned there when the mighty oak had fallen. And this fir tree was just itching to stand up straight once again. (You'd think that after being bent up for a year the thing would have lost some of it's starch, wouldn't you?)
Well, i was too preoccupied with the task at hand to even notice the trapped tree. I pushed with all my might on the last four-foot section of offending oak. It moved and...
Suddenly, I had no idea what was happening to me. All I knew was that my ribs around my heart erupted into a world of fiery agony, and I somehow I had achieved flight! For about a second and a quarter there, I was airborne! I landed about two feet away from my launching pad, flat on my back and gasping for breath.
It felt like Big Papi had caught me in the chest with his Louisville Slugger in the middle of a home run swing! My chest was throbbing, I had all of the air knocked out of me, and I the whole world went fuzzy and electric and, well, really, really pretty for one brief, shining moment.
When I came to, my chainsaw was buzzing merrily away about six feet from my head, and Fritz The Dog was standing over me with his head cocked to one side and a stick in his mouth, inquiring in his doggy body language, "WTF????"
I take it that he was the sole witness to my history-making flight and that he watched to whole tejectory from blastoff to the unceremonious splat-down.
"Hi Fritzy," I rasped when I finally recognized him and acquired the gift of speech once again.
When he heard my voice and saw me move, it was obvious that he was relieved, for he turned his head around to my other German Shepherd, and I swear I heard him telepathically communicate to her, "It's okay' Dixie! The human here... you know, the higher animal? The one with brains? ... damn near killed himself yet again, but he appears to have survived.
"Get the fuck away from me!" I shouted and painfully wave my arm at both of them, and they both slinked away, snickering and shaking their heads in disbelief as they went. I was glad I had had them both neutered when they were pups! I hope it hurt like all hell!
I then gingerly made my way to my feet, curious as to just what the hell had clobbered me. Then I saw it - the fir tree that was decidedly not there two minutes previously! It was still swaying slightly for side to side as I slowly pieced together what had just transpired.
When the truth dawned on me, my blood ran cold as I cursed a blue streak. Then, slowly and filled with icy determination, I reached over for the still-running chainsaw...and cut the offending little asshole down to size, reveling in the rain of sticky sap that splattered across my face and my body!
A week later now, I can't take a deep breath, and I'd rather eat my fingers off my hands than sneeze or cough, but I can still smile when I think about what I did to that fir! It's laying there in the front yard cut up into twenty or thirty pieces. Still there among it's own sap and sawdust. I hope it knows that it died FOR NOTHING! And, you know what? I'm not going to clean it up or stack it or burn it or anything!
It's just going to stay right there until it fucking ROTS!!!