Today I did something that could have been, and, with a bit of hindsight, probably was funny, but at the time it was just cringeworthy. And not just a little bit cringeworthy, either. It was major, pathetic, Three Stooges cringeworthy.
I like to think of myself as a pretty self sufficient kind of a person. I live, quite comfortably on my own and that’s always worked fine for me, but once in a blue moon I come up against something new. Something I haven’t had to deal with with before. As a pretty self sufficient kind of a person, I like to think I’ll be able to deal with these moments as they arise on my own. I guess you could say I’m stubborn like that, but, as I see it, it’s more that I’m fully capable of handling my problems on my own. So when one of the lights in my apartment decided to blow, I decided that, with a quick ‘how to’ search on Google under my belt, I had enough expertise in that area to handle the simple task of changing a lightbulb.
Even though I don’t have an aluminium ladder of my own, I know a mate in the ground floor apartment who does, so I figured it would be easy enough to borrow it from him. Irritatingly, Steve has one of those ridiculously huge Bailey ladders, and it wouldn’t fit in the lift, but that just meant a bit of extra cardio for me, carrying it up the stairs. The problem with that was that I got into a bit of a rhythm, where I wasn’t really thinking about much more than continuing up the stairs, so when I got to my flaw I just kicked the door open and stormed through. Thing was, I was holding the ladder horizontally. The whiplash was mind-boggling, and I was moving so fast that I actually fell down, under the ladder, which then fell on my chest. If there’d been a laugh track laid over the top of it, it would have looked like slapstick comedic gold. As it was, it looks like three broken ribs, cracked plaster, and a long hospital bill.
Oh, and one busted light bulb.