Parlor Spider...Step In, Little Fly

Insightful thoughts and/or rants from atop the soapbox from one who wishes to share the "right" opinion with everyone.

Sunday, August 05, 2012

Gravity Does Its Worst

I don't imagine Sir Isaac Newton suffered any cranial carnage as a result of the whole apple-on-the-head episode. I mean, the distance was relatively short, and apples don't generally weigh much so, all in all, he was right to be more enlightened than injured. Naturally, there are skeptics who disbelieve the whole story anyway just like there are nattering nabobs of negativity who dispute the whole William Tell shooting the apple off his son's head story. 
Apples history notwithstanding, gravity is much so that Tea Party pundits have not even dared to suggest it does not regulate much of our lives (unlike their stance on global warming). But I can attest to the singular dangers of gravity in a way that not even Newton or his lesser known brother Fig could have imagined.
Being somewhat hampered by bandages, wraps and sutures on and in my left leg makes going to the bathroom something of an adventure. Crutches being about five feet tall render them relatively useless as mechanical aids to the getting down then back up again process. The fact that the towel rack opposite the"facility" was merely held onto the wall with a couple of screws did not engender any confidence that it could be used as support for my post-operative-gotta-go-NOW body. Thus, it was a matter of crouching as far as possible, balancing with one hand on the sink, then dropping the final foot or so in hopes of landing squarely on a round piece of equipment that would allow me to complete the task at hand (so to speak) before a mop was needed...I'm trying to make the point that his was an immediate need without being too graphic. There was simply no turning back once I had committed myself to gravity, and there would be either great success (complete with "AHHHH") or a mess of tsunamic proportion.
At any rate, the lightest miscalculation in angle resulted in an off-target landing that was followed by a resounding "crack" as one of the hinges exploded from the stress. Fortunately, my cat-like quickness allowed me to reposition myself in time to avert the dreaded mop experience, but it left me with an equally problematic future involving how to get back up. No solid support below, no crutches or rail on which to depend...just shove off and hope to catch something solid. In doing so, I did manage to et up without doing more bodily damage, but the stress was too much for the lone hinge as it, too, gave way.
At least now I cannot be blamed for leaving the  lid up!


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