I was rummaging in the back of my closet, pulled out a tote from the back, but did not see the #$@% bolt cutter standing behind it. And yes, it is the same as the picture at left, but that is not me holding it.
The metal blade of the #$@# bolt cutter crashed onto my instep.
Yes, there was plenty of @#$@#$@#$ screaming.
Stumbled, hopped to freezer, grabbed the ice pack and placed on foot.
Sat in chair catching breath.
OK, nothing broken, but bruised and throbbing.
Now why may you ask would I have a heavy-duty bolt cutter, over 2’ long, made out of solid steel in my closet?
Because if I don’t lock it up, certain miscreants will use it to unchain the equipment and/or locks that I have around this complex.
Next day, I hiked around Home Depot, on their lovely concrete floors, buying apartment supplies. The PROs department guys give me huge smiles and waves. I am flattered. (Yes, the PROs desk loves me; I am the prettiest contractor there, arguably my competition is grumpy old men in construction boots and dusty, dirty work shirts. I’ll take the compliments however they come.)
I don’t bother to speculate if it is me they love or my bosses’ credit card: It is me.
Foot is now throbbing, convinced leg and back to join in the misery. Concentration getting thin. Need to go home and find something good in the medicine cabinet.
Foot better. Drove one hour for a meeting. This is not a job, just a maybe meeting.
Sigh.
Dove one hour home.
Gave handicapped neighbor a ride: he is not looking good, not breathing well. Put out my smoke; tell him to put out his.
Turn down side street, go over RR crossing. Gates CLOSE in front and behind me. Yes I am ON the tracks. No lights, no ding-ding-ding. I am penned in front and back ON the tracks!
Yes, there is a train coming from the next station, it is ONE block away (really less than a football field)! Is this the LOCAL or the EXPRESS?! (Do you remember that train scene in the movie “Hancock?” THAT, not my life flashed through my head!) Do you know how BIG a train is when it is barreling down the track that you are stuck on?!
I back up, hit gate, which catches on my rear trunk spoiler. Some wonderful woman jumps out of her car, bangs on my window and lifts the gate for me to move under. Said “Thank you” and hit reverse!
The train was the EXPRESS. Tell God, “THANK YOU!” Many times.
Come home, same neighbor comes upstairs so I can repair his glasses (another one of my many talents). Moments later, he fell out of his chair onto carpet. While lying on carpet, pleads, “Please don’t call the EMTs.” Sure, phone already in hand, furiously dialing 9-1-1!
Police, EMTs arrive, oxygen is administered. I am outside smoking and counting every construction boot stomping over my new carpet. Neighbors start to cluster and peer into window then tell me what is going on.
Did I need that play-by-play?
EMTs and neighbor now need my key for his apartment. We walk him downstairs and EMTs ask me to go check on him later.
Yes, I do care; however, I am NOT medically trained. Remember, I dialed 9-1-1, not administered oxygen.
Bring him plate of food and his still-broken glasses.
Next morning, he looked much better. Will drive him to fix glasses.
Now, I really don’t drink…but today has been tough. Maybe just one.
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