I think I'm going to try something new. I am going to do five minute sketches to go along with my blog entry. Pen only, five minute limit. Pencils and time are for wimps. Quick sketches will get me back in the swing of things and improve (or, at least maintain) my artistic prowess. This may only last a few weeks but it's worth a try. It's very much how I write my blog--write it and be done with it. No editing. No worry about grammar. No going back or starting with a draft. That's how I roll.
This week, the Addiverse brought me--er, I brought to it--a tumble worthy of both drawing and tale. It's an "I knew better" story, of which has a happy ending (i.e. no ambulance was required, no teeth were broken).
I was at a place of which I cannot and will not confirm or deny, helping a person learn a new skill (of which I do for a living). As we were talking, she got this horrified look on her face and exclaimed, "there's a bug!" My first reaction was: Oh please god, don't let it be a centipede! She then added, "It's a spider!" I don't care about spiders, so I turned around and yup, a spider was webbing his way back up to the ceiling. It wasn't a big spider but I'm sure it scared her nonetheless. I told her I would kill it once it crawled across the ceiling and got to the wall. (These are 10 foot ceilings. there was no way I could kill it while it hung out on the ceiling.)
Ol' Mr. Spidee finally came down the wall just far enough that I thought I'd be able to kill him using the handy fly swatter. A few swats, accompanied by a few jump-and-swats, proved that I was too short for such an adventure.
There was a blue bin parked next to the wall of which featured the spider who must be killed. I looked at the person, looked at the bin, looked at the person. It looked like a 3 feet deep bin, which would give me more than enough height to kill the spider. I asked, more to me than her, "Do you think this thing can support me?" She didn't answer. I'm not sure she understood my question, being she was so freaked out by the spider.
Now, most people would be smart enough not to do anything that requires questions such as the one I just posed aloud. Most people would check to see if the bin was full or empty. Most people wouldn't care about a spider to even wonder about a blue bin. Not me. I looked at the blue bin and said aloud, "I know I shouldn't do this. I know better."
Duh! When your mouth spits out such a statement, one should listen.
But, I did not listen. Instead, flyswatter in hand, I put my left foot on the left end of the bin cover. I gently put my right foot on the right side of the bin top. I slowly stood up. Yes! It supported me just fine. Confidence spewing forth, I reached up with the fly swatter to give that eight legged creature a quick good-bye. I wound up for the swat, putting a bit more weight on my left leg as I reached up with my right arm, and......
...the blue bin, which was empty, went FLYING out from under my feet and blasted off to the right. My momentum blasted my body to the left. Airborn for a moment...I crashed on top of a large, business strength garbage can...on which I came down in a ruckus enough to wake the dead. Bin flying, me flying, garbage can flying. As I fell onto the garbage can, the lid flew off, the bin hit the metal desk and I landed on my nose. No kidding. Glasses flying, limbs flaying, body tumbling, nose smooshing.I landed with a eardrum-busting thud. For a second, I was not sure what exactly had just happened, as such incidents happen in one bazillionth of a second. There is no knowing what just kicked your ass it such a short span of time.
My pride immediately kicked into gear and I SHOT up from the floor, threw my arms in the air and exclaimed, "I'M GOOD!"
I terrified that poor lady. The spider was now the least of her concerns. My body hurt in all different places but I wasn't gonna let her know that. I picked up the garbage can, trying not to show her the pain I was feeling--both in body and in spirit. I looked up to the wall.....
....insult to injury, I missed the spider.
I looked at the lady, whose eyes were wide open. She must've read my mind because she said, "I didn't see anything." Give that lady a drink.
The spider must have taken pity on me, as he crawled down closer to my reach. I smooshed him like there was no tomorrow. I hit him several times, not that I needed to. He was dead on the first swat. I gave him several extra ones, just to be sure.
Any concern I harbored (I had killed one of my front teeth, I had broken my nose, I had cracked one bone or another) were all unfounded. I thanked the baby Jesus for not letting me hit my head or break a bone or require stitches. I had bruises and scrapes and semi-crooked glasses, but I was really no worse for the wear.
I was able to use this as a teachable moment. I turned toward the lady and said, "Don't ever do that." She assured me she wouldn't. I smiled and turned to leave, most decidely sure she would never do anything quite so stupid. I got in my car and was finally able to gather my wits. I sat there for a moment, finally trembling in response to the event and chewed on my stupidity.
I knew better, but I did it, anyway. Not a good way to do business. Not a good way to kill a spider. Not a good way to maintain pride....
...but, a great way to get a blogworthy story. One must have priorities, don't you think?
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