Do you ever have that moment when you don’t know if you’re awake or dreaming? I firmly believe it’s as close to unreality as we can get. The things I’ve experienced when in this state include a nuclear bomb going off and being mauled to death by rabbits. It’s stronger than a lucid dream, because in it, you feel alive in another world. At this point, in case you’re wondering, no, I’m not on drugs.
You can imagine then, my state of terror and fright as vast military aircraft came flying dangerously low overhead as I ‘slept’. I know the sound of a B52 bomber. That’s what it sounded like. A deep, rumbling thunder. Several times. Something shook off my wall and, like a scene from The Twilight Zone, when I woke it had actually fallen from my wall. You could argue that it was, in fact, real, but there is no way something that large and noisy could escape the attention of the entire neighbourhood. You could also argue that I’m going insane, which, to be fair, is a valid point.
This wasn’t the end of my misery. This week, I managed to scrape most of the skin from the knuckle of my left ring finger, nearly choked to death on blackened smoky plumes of smoke coming from a burning pan, accidentally head-butted a beam in the attic, clattered my right knee into a radiator after falling over something, nearly choked to death on blackened smoky plumes of smoke coming from a burning pan again, had a lightbulb explode in my face, and whack the back of my head off a beam in the attic. I’m not kidding, all that genuinely happened. I seriously believe that one of these days something really bad will happen to me. I’ll probably be mauled to death by rabbits.
As if all that wasn’t bad enough, I had to venture outside in what was, let’s face it, a monsoon. The lightbulb explosion had tripped a switch in the fuse-box. Which I had to flick back on. The fuse-box is in the garage. Only accessible from the outside. Where the monsoon was. It was cold, wet, windy and miserable.
I faced danger constantly this week. I had to hook up the television in the sewing room to receive digital television. Meaning I had to crawl into dark, cramped, cold and miserable corners of the attic to pop the cable through the ceiling. Which is where the beam bashing began. The radiator knee incident came about after I exited the attic covered in dust and God only knows what else. I sort of stumbled off the bottom rung of the ladder and fell toward the radiator, only to avoid it at the last second, twirl around (rather gracefully, I thought), step forward in an attempt to prevent a fall, only to put my foot on a pile of books (rather than the floor), trip over the pile of books, and collapse onto the radiator.
This wasn’t the last of the attic’s antics.
I did a spot of bedroom tidying and rearranging. This was brought on by ma and pa, who had bought a garment rack that dad erected in the attic. Didn’t go well. He whacked his head off a beam. I don’t think that attic likes this family.
Natheless, their clutter was cleared from my wardrobe and was free to receive my clutter. I ended up with an incredible amount of space in my room. I ended up with so much space that I got a little table for my laptop.
Even that didn’t go well.
I decided that it was to go under the windowsill. I had it all measured up when the box with it in arrived. All that was required was some assemblage. I opened the box only to discover the glass top was smashed. I tried to remain upbeat. ‘Oh well’, I thought, ‘accidents happen’. What happened next, however, was far from upbeat. I stood up and screamed rather loudly. Why?
I believe the reason was because the sole of my foot didn’t appreciate several small pieces of glass in it, nor did I appreciate the sight of my own blood, nor did the floor appreciate me landing on it after I fainted.
Oh, woe is me.
“Find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain”, said American mythologist, writer and lecturer, Joseph John Campbell (1904-1987).
Peace Out :|:
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