did i do that?

some days, my klutziness knows no bounds.

i knew it wasn't exactly going to be the best of days this morning, as i got naked, turned on the water, stumbled into the shower, and proceeded to put the ultra-drying facial mask all over my dry,tangly hair. (i was trying for the deep conditioner, as instead of my haircut making the tangles more managable, it seems to be creating more tangles for me to manage. i swear about two fistfuls of hair are sitting in the trash can in the women's restroom at one end of the "d" concourse of the atlanta airport. but i digress....)

anyway, i quickly caught my error, rinsed my hair, and wandered, still dripping, to my still-packed suitcase to retrieve my conditioner. (and no, it didn't wind up on my face, either. i was fully awake by that point.)

the rest of the day went by fairly uneventfully. i folded laundry. i vacuumed the floors. i fed the dog. i kicked the dog out when he came after my food. i put my left foot through the bathroom ceiling. i made croissant-wrapped hot dogs. i babysat the kids.

yeah, you read that right.

there i was, vacuuming the floor, when the phone rang. a couple minutes later, i heard the fax machine sound its distress signal....it was out of paper. after searching for paper in the office, it dawned on me that there was probably a box upstairs. i walked across the rafters to the virgin box of paper, grabbed a ream, and headed back downstairs.

i almost wound up taking the express route.

paper in hand, i walked back across the rafters, planting my left foot on footlong 2" by 4" piece of wood.

which slipped.

now, i've done this sort of thing before, over the garage, but apparently the ceiling there is reinforced slightly more, as suddenly, a fair bit of my left leg was dangling, and when i pulled it up, i could very clearly see the brand new scale on the recently-redesigned bathroom floor.

oh shit.

unfortunately, things didn't look much better from downstairs.


slightly panicked, but mostly embarrassed by my inability to carry on daily life without occasionally wrecking stuff, i did the rational thing.

when mama finished chuckling, she reassured me that "these things happen".

to whom? how many of you have inadvertantly altered the structural integrity of a freaking ceiling with your foot?

so yes, these things happen, but probably only to 1 out of every 100 people.

to the other 99 of you: you're welcome.

at any rate, while mama was being utterly reassuring (if there's reassurance to be found in laughter so hard one swears the laugher is doubled over and turning red from giggle-induced overexertion), i wandered out to the garage, grabbed the ladder (yes, the same one that took out a light fixture a couple of months ago), hauled it back to the bathroom, and set about the task of patching things up as best i could.

as you can see, my best wasn't very good:


...but that's okay, as i believe the lesson on "amateur ceiling repair" will follow next week's lesson on "walking across rafters".

surely bob vila learned the tricks of the trade an easier way.....