I'll bet when you first read the title of this post, you thought it was some sort of metaphor for something else I wanted to write about, and I would somehow cleverly tie it in to "falling through the ceiling." Sadly, it is not. This title is very literal, because that's what I did yesterday...fell through the ceiling. Of my house. Yeah, I did....
To make a long stupid story a short stupid one, I have to go up to the attic every few months to clear out my dryer vent, and I have to balance on two ceiling studs with drywall and insulation surrounding me. Well, since I've never exactly been known for my graceful, yoga-style balance, I started to stumble and had to regain my footing by stepping through the drywall. My entire leg went through, and I had to scramble to get my arms balanced on the studs. You know in gymnastics how those guys have to balance their arms on those long parallel bars? Like this guy...
Yeah, that was me...except in the attic with my right leg hanging out of the ceiling into my shower. OK, I didn't look anything like that except my arm position and the leotard. :)
So my dog is barking and howling and growling because he thinks there's an intruder coming through the ceiling. I would have been proud of his guarding in any other circumstance, but in this case, the barking/growling/howling exacerbated the stress of the situation. I had to pull myself out of the ceiling (which is a challenge for a girl with extremely wimpy arm strength) and figure out what to do next. I had a banged up knee with fiberglass insulation in my mouth and on the rest of my body. There was nothing to do at that moment except to call Justin and plead with him to come home, call my Dad to ask about who to call/what to do next (God bless Dad), and go check out the damage. It wasn't pretty. The following picture is after clean up, so it's a prettier version of a very ugly incident:
I figured coffee makes things better, so as Justin was on his way home, I decided to brew a pot. After Justin came home and we assessed the damage, I went to make some nice warm coffee to try to make things better, only to find that I forgot that I cleaned the part of the machine that filters the water through the grounds, so there were wet coffee grounds spewed all over my counter. Fantastic.
Basically, I had a day of utter failure at day-to-day life. I spent the rest of the day nursing my bruised knee and reading a book. I figured the less I moved, the better chances of not screwing something else up. I succeeded.
Long time no talk! Where have I been, you may ask. I've been around. It's not like I've been absolutely too swamped to write, that's not it. It's not like I've got nothing to write about. Actually, I've got a million things I could write about, which is probably the cause of the extended blogging hiatus.
Once I get out of the habit of blogging, I get a little self-centered and think that my first post after the hiatus has to be some profound statement about life and the discovery of some obscure truth. Of course it doesn't, and when have any of my posts been profound discoveries of truth? That's not really my bag; I'm much better at writing about stupid stuff like mopping floors or taking my dog to the park. I'm okay with that, which either means that I'm content or that I'm intellectually lazy. Possibly a little of both.
Whatever the case may be, here I am. And my super-important topic of the day is my irrational fear of Jaws. The shark in the movie, not the body part. Although come to think of it, I wonder if anyone has ever been afraid of the body part...how would that work? What would cause that fear? I know one thing, that person would probably be very skinny! Perhaps unfortunately for me, however, mine is the fear of the Great White shark variety of Jaws.
I was finishing a short story for one of my classes (Short Story Writing...how convenient), and I made a Pandora station of ominous opera music. "O Fortuna" station on Pandora is guaranteed to get you in the mood to write a tragic ending to any story. I have no idea what they're saying in Italian opera, but you don't need to understand the lyrics to know that it is the most dramatic music possible. After a few operatic songs, the theme to Jaws came on. If that's not the scariest song in existence, I don't know what is. Seriously - I think a chill went down my spine. I had to quit writing altogether and listen to it in a stunned awe of its creepiness and the horrific shark death images that are partnered with it. Then I was just spooked. Perhaps it's because I saw Jaws at an age when it's impossible to understand that sharks require salt water and cannot survive in the sewer system in Kenton, Ohio. I was scared to take baths, because who knew if Jaws would pop out! I was scared to swim in Galveston, because who knows what's in that murky water...including Mr. Bad Guy himself. Now that I live in a totally landlocked state with no saltwater in a 500 mile radius, my fear of Jaws is definitely placed on the back burner, but it's still there...
When the song was over and regular dramatic opera music returned, I went back to writing, and even added a line about the cold, calculated eyes of a Great White shark. So thanks for the line, and kudos to John Williams and Steven Speilberg. Have a listen and a looksey in honor of the terror that is JAWS! duhhhhhhhhhhhh duh....... :)
