Tuesday night I was installing a light fixture in our reallyclosetobeingdone bathroom. Because I’m just few short inches over the 5-foot mark, anything that has to do with reaching the ceiling is always fun. It requires standing on top of the step ladder instead of safely down a step or two.
You already know where this is going, so let me just say this… I didn’t lose my balance and fall off the ladder, even though it was 90 degrees, I had sweat in my eyes, and there was no more blood in my arms or head from screwing supports into the ceiling for an absurd number of minutes.
What actually happened was GRAVITY HATES MY GUTS. Also, in retrospect the ladder might not have been in the fully upright and locked position because at some point that thing just effing collapsed. I fell 4 feet onto the concrete floor and hit my head on the urinal on the way down for good measure.
The glamorousness of my life cannot be overstated.
I would like to add that, while I had no self-preservation instincts regarding my body- I held the Maktia up in the air like I was diving into a pool and didn’t want it to get wet. So in case anyone was worried, the drill is safe.
I don’t know what compels me to immediately jump up after a hard fall and try to “walk it off” but I was plesantly surprised to find that four feet onto unforgiving concrete didn’t even phase the old bones. I may have done a little “I am superwoman cheer” and other than some missing skin on my toes, ankle, and elbow I was no worse for wear.
Then I woke up today and couldn’t move the right side of my body without feeling like a ninety year old arthritic. Maybe not so young and spry as I used to be. Diving off ladders is for teenagers, but since I live with a man that regularly pitches his entire body off the roof of the house, I have no grounds for complaint.
I really don’t understand why everyone doesn’t love DIY.