So much for trying to be a big girl.
I’ve been putting off getting down the Fall/Halloween decorations from the storage high up in the garage, because to get to it, I’d have to move the scary car I’ve never driven before. Then fate stepped in. The car needed to get it’s 18 month check-up and Mr. Tattered hasn’t been cleared to drive yet, so I had to take it. This violated a relationship-long rule that I DO NOT drive his vehicle until it has its first scratch, and this one is pristine.
Well, it was massively stressful, but I survived, and so did the car. Still pristine. (Except for the tiny little pee spot on the driver’s seat! JUST KIDDING!)
When I got home, I pulled up to the garage and figured as long as the car was out, I’d go ahead and retrieve the boxes. I hate to admit this, but I can be stubbornly independent at times. I should have had the boss come out and supervise, but I really thought I could “do it myself!” as the kids used to say when they were tiny.
Turns out, not so much.
So up the ladder I went. The first one was fine. Yeah, I can do this.
The next one felt heavier, but I still wasn’t alarmed. I should have been. I carefully slid the box out to the edge of the shelf then lifted and turned to set it on the ledge that comes out from the ladder (where you set the paint can?)
You know that moment when you realize you are going drop the fill-in-the-blank and you know there is nothing you can do to stop it? Yeah, that one. It was like it was happening in slow motion, and the question that flashed through my head wasn’t “will anything break?” but rather, “how bad is it going to be?”
With the initial crash came the sound of shattering. I looked down to see a pile of stuff…
including a couple of decapitated pilgrims, and heads rolling across the floor…
and wished I hadn’t been so pig-headed. But, that ship had sailed, so I set about surveying the damage.
All things considered, it wasn’t too bad. A couple of smashed pumpkins, the handle broken off my pitcher, and 3 headless pilgrims…it could have been a lot worse.
The heads were clean breaks, not shatters, so I’ll be able to repair them well enough that they won’t need to go in the trash. The pitcher is still up in the air. I use it as a centerpiece, not as an actual serving pitcher, so it may be salvageable. The pumpkins didn’t fare so well. I really liked them, but I’m not one to cry over spilt milk. And it’s just stuff. I may not be able to find the exact ones to replace them, but there’s so much cool stuff out there, I’m sure I’ll survive.
At least I didn’t fall off the ladder. I’m grateful for that.
Finally Mr. Tattered came out to see if I was alive and said, “you know, I’m available to help.” Yeah, I shoulda thought of that.