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| We're sitting on the top part. |
We’re normally seated above the one-story part of the house. If the roof were to collapse where we usually sit, we would end up in a pile on the floor of the dining room. Some of you might land in the kitchen.
However, this evening we find ourselves on the roof above the second story part of the house. It’s a smaller area above the study and master bedroom. Were the roof to collapse right now, some of us would end up in the master bedroom, with one or two of you landing in Kay’s bathtub. If you prefer the bedroom, best move a little more to the left.
Fortunately, the roof is not likely to collapse. We may well fall off this thing, but I doubt we’ll fall through it. If you’ll look behind you, you’ll see the place where I nearly bought the proverbial farm. None of you were up here at that time, ‘cause nobody wanted to help me clean the gutter. I don’t believe in gutter guards. Don’t trust ‘em.
So, I was using my leaf blower when raindrops started hitting the metal roof. The drops were rather sparse, but each carried about a quart of water. No worry, I’m like a mountain goat… or one of those lizards with suction-cupped feet.
I only had about a foot of gutter to go when it happened. Some of you will recall the incident from an article I wrote called “Keister Krack.” The editor wisely changed it to “Tailbone Trauma.” Something like that.
Regardless what it was called, my feet slid out from under me, causing me to land really hard on the part of the anatomy that serves as the dispatcher of all pain. It’s got a technical name. I think the Saxons called it “hellbone”, but the Normans changed it to “tailbone.”
My immediate worry had nothing to do with my fractured fanny. That’s because I didn’t remain in the fall-down place long enough to focus. I immediately started sliding past the edge of doom, directly to doom itself. Death would come as a result of me landing on the angled brick lining at the edge of the driveway. I figured my best bet would be to land on my rear, ‘cause it was already critical.
My last thought -- before it happened -- was that Kay was going to be really be ticked off once she came home. I hate to leave without being able to defend myself. During the slide, I had a firm grip on the leaf-blower. It took me forever to get the thing started, so I feared it might stop if I tossed it. Weird the thoughts you have before death.
So, my hands stayed with the leaf blower, while my legs were just going along for the ride ‘cause of all the pain my tailbone was sending them. All of a sudden I stopped sliding. Seems my left foot got trapped in the gutter. The gutter didn’t bend or break. It held on like grim death, and I loved it for it. I was saved by the very gutter I was cleaning. Is that not irony? -- No, I’m asking. Would you call that irony?
The second I realized I wasn’t going to die, every square inch of my body started throbbing. All the pain was radiating from my tailbone. It sent messages to my neck, my lungs, knees. pancreas… It took me about an hour and half to make my way off the roof. With each agonizing step, I thanked God for not letting me experience the one-second dismount.
Isn’t that fascinating? We’re up here near the very spot where I had my near death experience. Keep in mind, I didn’t see a bright light. I saw Kay being really mad at me. – So, are there any questions? – Right. What are we doing up here? Yes, I realize I could’ve easily told this story at ground level.
To tell the truth, we didn’t come up here so I could tell the story. We came up here so I could find the source of a leak that is staining the ceiling in the bedroom. Kay thinks the caulked area around the chimney has a gap in it. I’ve looked, but can’t find one.
I’m getting ready to check the area around the eaves, but before doing so I wanted to share the story with you, because it may well be my last. (I always think the worst, because it’s impossible to get disappointed that way. You knew that.) – So, away with you all. Best you not see this. Or hear it. I’ve been told I scream like a girl. – I’ll give you a few minutes to clear the premises.
Coast is clear. -- Well, Father, it looks like it’s just You and me again. Please, realize that the last time it took my tailbone a year to completely heal. So, if I have to fall, I’d appreciate You letting me fall forward. And, if it’s not too much trouble, please, don’t let me overshoot the hedge. I might could crawl away from a hedge-fall.
Okay, let’s do this thing. -- Next time. (By the way. The fact that you’re reading this is an indication that I survived to climb again. Life is good… until it’s not. Weird how that works.)
End
Mark@rooftopwriter.com
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