Adult Supervison Required
Catsby is better today than she was yesterday and I’m trying to make myself quit freaking out so much so today I’ll tell a story from last weekend. The story of how I wound up injured and bleeding in my own backyard.
That's about right
Saturday night I had some old high school friends out to my mom’s house for a few beers and a visit. The bf and I got there first and wandered to the backyard, where I visited the grave of the 20-year-old kitty Mom had to put down a few weeks ago. I paid my respects and turned around to come face to face with the steps to the treehouse my dad had built with some friends back when I was a wee tyke. Standing there next to my deceased childhood cat, something came over me. I decided to try to relive my childhood. I have no idea when the last time was that someone tried to climb the wooden steps to the top of the treehouse, much like I have no idea why I thought it would be smart to attempt it myself. But of course I did it anyway. The lowest two steps were still attached and I gingerly stepped up, testing my weight on each one before moving on. The next few steps were broken off (you’d think this would be my cue to get back on the ground but no) so I used that hard-earned college education and kept on climbing. I was perhaps five feet off the ground when every single step snapped and I slid down the wood like an idiot character in a bad cartoon.
Yes, it hurt. I managed to give myself a six-inch bruise on my upper left arm, a small bruise on my right arm and a nice gash and corresponding additional bruise on my right shin. Yes, I cried and yes, I kicked myself for pulling such a smooth move. At least my mom got a laugh out of it and we know officially know we can’t climb the treehouse anymore. And to be honest I’ve been just a tad fascinated by the bruising I’ve achieved. I haven’t injured myself this well in a while and there are enough colors on my arm to fill a crayon box. It’s looking a little better though and I no longer have the urge to limp so it appears that Catsby isn’t the only one on the mend.
This experience also taught me I can’t just go gallivanting around, trying to relive my childhood. Apparently I’m a real grown up now. But that means I have the ability and appropriate permissions to drive to a hardware store, buy more wood and use a hammer and nails to put the steps back together. Then I can climb to my heart’s content! Or allow other family children to experience the joys of the treehouse.
After me, of course.
szoso said,
September 12, 2011 at 6:10 pm
YOU SAID BF!!!!