I would sooner cut off my toe than ask for instructions on how to work the weed whacker...
Early in my marriage, my husband and I decided to undertake a home remodeling project for the house I currently rent. Every time I spend any time in the bathroom - you know counting the tiles - I am reminded of the vacuum cleaner incident. We did a hot and weary tear out of the windows and walls in the bathroom and it was my job to clean up the plaster dust. I was using one of those wet/dry vacuums that to paraphrase Willie Nelson, could suck the chrome off a bumper. After successfully cleaning up the mess I decided to dump the plaster in a garbage can while simultaneously listening to the CUBS game. Now on occasion when I am not completely focused on the task at hand I have been known to screw up said task. When my husband (now ex-husband) entered the room I accidentally blew the contents of the vacuum cleaner in his face and the adjoining bedroom. Of course I was appropriately remorseful but silently laughing out of control. I shooed him out of the room and commenced to clean up the mess. As he was entering the room for the second time a CUBS player hit a grand slam and...well...I had no idea a vacuum could strike a window with that amount of force and still not shatter into a million pieces.
If experience is the best teacher that lesson has been lost on me. I walked around the past few weeks with a nice bruise on my lower jaw. People were polite and pointed out the smudge but no one actually questioned the cause of the rapidly spreading blue ink spot. It could be they did not want to hear a rather lengthy and pointless explanation (I have been known to put people to sleep with my stories). Since this is my blog I will tell all of you: I was trimming a tree limb on a ladder when the hedge clipper and branch bounced back and clocked me. I thought I might have broke my jaw which surely would have begun my all ice cream diet. When I did tell one friend about the trimming travesty she suggested I hire a professional landscaper. What fun in that? I thought. Where is the danger, the excitement I so yearn for? Wow, I really do need to get a life.
Instead, today I bravely borrowed a power tool from my neighbor and proceeded to trim the bushes along with a few of the electrical and cable lines that run along the exterior of the house. Now that is living dangerously! I achieved my adrenaline rush when it started to rain and the electric hedge trimmer came alive, literally. It felt similar to the shocks I would get in my grandmother's shower - the one with the defective light fixture in the bathroom.
I am extremely grateful to live on a busy street and in a neighborhood where we watch out for each other. In my case that may include dialing 911 as I embrace each home repair armed with a positive attitude and very little skill. Thank you all in advance for catching me when I fall.
P.S. Shout-out to my niece graduating High School this weekend (watch out Boston) my nephew just back from France (sorry France its too late for a warning) and my other niece in Ireland (watch out Dublin)...
I once floated the notion that adults should take a semester abroad in mid-career and my sister responded "They call it elder hostel."