It’s been a while since I posted about “the life of Laurel.” Today seemed like a good day to write about it.
It’s been “a rainy night in Georgia” for about eights days now. I’ve been watching my grass, which unlike corn, is not as high as an elephant’s eye, nor does it resemble the beanstalk that Jack climbed…but it was getting on up there.
It wasn’t raining nor was it cold today, so I decided to hop on my Deere and get to getting (as we Southerners say.)
The first task was opening the garage door. I have three of them and the one on the end is where I keep the Deere. It’s a heavy door that swings out and up and I’m not tall enough to get it high enough to “catch,” so I usually get a board, and using my butt, coax it up a bit, put the board against it and then get another one, lifting it just enough for me to do some trick riding on the Deere, (not to be confused with trick riding on a horse.)
Well…the first board I chose was a 2 x 4. When I tried to put the lighter one up, the 2 x 4 fell and cracked me in the forehead, (not to be confused with my younger daughter’s humongous fivehead.)
I remember thinking, “that hut,” (not to be confused with those little primitive dwellings.) I also remember thinking, “man. I just knocked out what few brains I have left, and I was fond of those little pieces of grey matter.”
Anyway, I kept trudging on. After a few more seconds and a successful erect board (not to be confused with the normal thing associated with erect,) I thought, “holy donkeyballs! I’m sweating like a nun in a whorehouse!”
I kept wiping my brow and slinging the “sweat” off of my fingers, (never bothering to look at them.) Eventually, I did notice that my sweat was now dripping on my hands. Holy headbleed! I was hemorrhaging!
I coolly and calmly walked in the house, all the while trying to keep my blood from dripping on the floor and made my way to the bathroom. I watched and cursed as the blood dripped onto the sink I had just yesterday cleaned.
But when I looked in the mirror, I was suddenly distracted by the pretty pink hue my hair had taken on. I looked like Pink!
Anyway, I wiped and dabbed and dabbed and wiped, all the while thinking I would have a four-foot gash in my head. After I got it all cleaned up, I saw a hole, (not to be confused with a hole on the golf course.)
I imagine what got me was the nail sticking out of the board. “Hmm,” I thought. I went out and finished mowing the lawn and then thought I should probably put something on it. (Pretty good former EMT.) I put some alcohol on it, (not to be confused with booze,) and walked to the mailbox.
It’s swollen and it hurts like….well like somebody hit me in the head with a 2 x 4.
I should probably be worried about lock-jaw (which is what we used to call Tetanus.) I don’t know if alcohol will stop lock-jaw, but hey…if it does, I still have my fingers.
Like Scarlett said…”I won’t think about that today. I’ll think about that tomorrow.”