Friday, August 26, 2005
The day started simply-breaking down a large tent-like structure from over the kiln and grill (our employer for the day makes glass art). You'd be amazed at how easy it is to get wrapped up in strips of test-cloth and wind up trapped beneath a semi-collapsed metal pole structure. Not to worry, I was freed before my windpipe found itself punctured with the rusted pointy end of a support pole.
K's (the EF the D) reaction was nothing more than laugh! Well, and a that and a quick run to the kitchen to make some crappucino. Her timing with the cup of caffeine couldn't have been better as my next project had a higher price of failure.
Effort #2 was using Round Up and spraying the hell out of a small hillside of progressively aggressive vines. Only once was I tossed to the ground by a foot snagging green snake-like vine. Otherwise it was a flawless application of poison to the ground, air, and my feet. Not to worry, my shoes are Gore-tex wonders and are built for trail running. Unfortunately, they've been my main choice of foot wear for a year now and thanks to the miles of use and the razor sharp lava rock out here, they are now traction-less, falling apart and have long slices in many places from mean rocks!
A quick weeding session was supplanted by a request to move heavy objects and lots of glass from the garage to an upstairs bedroom. "No problem," says I, thinking nothing of it.
Silly me. I should know by now that nothing I do anymore is simple. It started off ok; I grabbed some shoe-box sized boxes filled with glass and moved them. No problem. Various bottles of liquids and containers also made the trip upstairs without causing an incident.
Next came larger bundles of glass: sheets of glass; rods of glass the width of toothpicks but a foot long; glass shards; glass bundles. It was chaos, and my every sense was heightened in an effort to not break anything.
Unfortunately, everyone here has cats. These creatures are destined to be my destruction in this life.
All was well until one of the hairy bastards found a way to get under my left foot as I struggled up the stairs with an armload of glass sheets, a ceramic bowl and part of a kiln. I stepped down, the creature moved and sent my leg swinging up and forward which in turn shifted my weight backwards (downhill).
Many things went thru my mind in the next several seconds. The predominant theme was one of hatred towards kitties. But every dog has his day, yeah? As I tumbled down the stairs, flinging glass bits everywhere, the kiln bit whonked my head and I found myself swwimming in gray for a bit. Coming to, my 'friends' and the B for AD were gathered around a clump of fur with lancing glass sticking out in all directions. Shouts for: "To the vet", were heard and they all dashed off. D helped me up and pulled some of the larger pieces of glass out of my stomach and arms. As we applied bandages and I stitched myself up (with a needle I quickly made from a palm frond and stitching made from my fraying Wranglers), he tried to make me feel better about wounding a cat. He didn't seem to understand my spewing animosity
When the cat and women-folk returned, I was informed that I was lucky, the rat fink would make it. No inquests were made as to my own state of being (I guess bulky blue stitches across a persons impossibly huge bicep is not a polite topic of conversation).
The worst part? I saw that idiot cat limp around outside....and slap paws with a mongoose...