2003 Story Set
| Date: December 13, 2003 I am finally remodeling the garage (after 9 years) into living space we so desperately need. My son's bedroom (and eventual isolation room when they do the transplant) and the weight equipment will move out there. It has its own furnace. It is getting windows. And a window in the attic. And a tile floor. And new garage doors - insulated with windows. New electrical - at long last. And cable and phone line. And the doors are being bug-proffed. We are also removing the falling-down handy-man-from-hell back deck and putting in a new one. Concrete. No rats underneath. And sealing up the water heater - where we find that the rats have made home. Foaming the kitchen wall they chewed into. Lovely. I have baited and baited. I baited some more. Turns out, the rats chewed the phone lines------ Oh they are history now! They do NOT get inside the house - because they know the cats are there. Waiting. So I was working on the back yard. Clearing the deck for removal. Checking to see what was underneath. We got carried away. He pulled up a board. I took a circular saw to the deck and did cross cuts. And we lifted 1-2 more boards. Yep. Cement underneath! All the way to the edge! YEAH! (We will put a top back up - one that doesn't sway if you lean on it.) We were having fun ripping a face board off and a cross board off. Very relaxing when in the midst of finals. I was trying to pry boards up. He can do this. I am simply too old and weak. I need to be back in the gym. The boards are slippery and --- I slipped. Went down with a bang. Slow motion slide. My feet had absolutely no purchase on the slippery boards. Why they are leaving. Screamed and cried. Landed on my hand - middle finger - right hand. And the pry bar. Blood everywhere. Well - just all over my hand. My son managed to drag me around (I was slipping like a turtle on its back) and helped me get up (I rolled over on my knees to do this). Thank heavens I had indulged in a glass of wine earlier. And no, that's not why I fell. We got me in to the kitchen sink. I stuck my hand under water. I fell back on the floor. I couldn't breath. My son fetched the inhaler. (After a moment of panic.) I took deep breaths. I could wiggle my hand. I had not passed out. I was not nauseous. I took Aleve and Tylenol. I soaked my hand in a bowl. Sitting down. Not broken - but hurt like it was! Took about 20 minutes to stop being hysterical. After soaking, I wrapped it up. My son was frantic. He tried to call the other one. He asked if he needed to drive. (No license.) He asked about 911 (no - I am not dying.) He cannot stand to see me bleed or see me hurt. Panics him. I said I would be OK. After the shock left, I would be. And my son put the tools away (pry bar, sledge hammer and saw). Sort of. I made corn bread with one hand and left the garage to storage wrap-up (one more load) for another day. The deck is definetely leaving. |
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