Last evening I fell off a ladder. Today I am a little sore but fine.
I've always jokingly said that I know when it's time to quit work. It's time when I start screwing up. When I'm sitting at the wheel it's when the pot collapses for no reason other than inattention. But apparently it can be a little more serious when I'm doing construction.
It doesn't sound funny, and it wouldn't be funny, except for the fact that this pushing 70 year old fell off a ladder and didn't break anything. I was, to tell the truth, higher than a kite for a while. Adrenalin, I suspect. I phoned my niece in my giddy state and was telling her all about it. Also about the fact that a few days ago I was walking back from the store and a woman walked by me and said, "T3's?" "Pardon?", say I. "Tylenol 3's!", she replied, rather peeved at my stupidity. "Oh, No thank you," I say and move along, realizing I'm still the bumpkin from the sticks at heart.
"So much for my psychic powers," I say to my niece. "Should have known I'd be needing them or they wouldn't have been offered up by the universe."
"Yeah," said my niece, "but her psychic powers were sure working."
