Sunday, August 28, 2005
That's not the purpose of this blog. Boring boring boring are stories about yard work. "Wow. That one weed was so tough to pull out I had to drop my beverage and really put forth some effort!"
My tale revolves very slightly around the work-it happened while I was taking a break. Running uphill from where the painting was taking place (D and I did not get to participate, as there was a dearth of brushes) I had to skirt under a low hanging sheet of plywood. Previous to ducking under thiws monstrosity, I needed to leap up and over an immense boulder. This I accomplished without a problem, being as nimble as a mountain goat. However, when it came time to duck under the wood I had some issues.
First, my hat. It was pulled down low to protect my eyes from the sun. Unfortunately, it also hindered my view of any object above chest level (assisted in my downcast eyes).
Problem 2 was my hair. As soon as I alit atop the rock a gust of wind breezed by and tossed my golden locks across the front of my face and wrapped around the other side (thanks to an overabundance of sweat, adhesiveness of hair to skin had become problematic).
Thus, my view of anything outside my head became obscured.
I then smashed face-first into the aforementioned board.
My nose took the brunt of the attack with the rest of my face absorbing the aftershocks.
Stunned, temporarily blinded, and knocked off course I began stumbling backwards and found myself wheeling madly thru the air after going airborne off the big rock. Fortunately my fall was broken by some oversized tobacco plants and I was not hurt, aside from the bloodied face and wounded pride.
Everyone on the farm-the owner, my 'friends', the migrant workers on-hand to pick coffee cherry, and some neighbors-were apparently watching my progress and got a good laugh. Bastards
The owner, our boss for the day, was kind enough to try and heal my hurt with a Corona. It worked and we all had a good laugh at the additional example of my idiocy