Some Days, I Really Hate Being Right....

There are times when I do things that I know I shouldn’t do on my own. Today was one of those times. I’m working on cleaning up the garage so that I can get my car in there, and one of the ways I decided to increase my space is to hang the dog crates on the walls. One of the garage walls is unfinished, so instead of sheet rock, its just the bare studs, and the occasionally sharp, pointy nail still sticking out. There are 4 crates – 2 big and 2 travel, and hanging them is a good idea. So, I went to Lowe’s and got some big hooks to screw into the studs. I measured the crates, figured out the best way to hang them, and put the hooks in the studs (thanks again, Brian, for the laser level).

This is the point where I told myself that I really should wait for John to get here tomorrow so I’d have help getting the crates on the higher hooks. I knew I’d have trouble getting those heavy things up high enough on my own. And *this* is the point where I told myself, what the heck, you don’t know what you can do til you try. So, I set the ladder up in front of the wall, got up on the second step, and managed to get the crate up to where it was propped on my leg. And I tried, I really did, to get the thing high enough, but even I knew I was pushing it to go up another step on the ladder. After several attempts, I decided that I was right, I needed to wait for help, and that my best course was to get the crate back on the floor without damaging it or doing something really bad, like rupturing another disc in my back.

Well, the trip down didn’t go quite as smoothly as the trip up. As I was stepping down, I slipped, and started to fall forward. I had a quick flash that, if I dropped the crate, I was in a prime position to catch myself on one of those exposed nails, which would be a bad thing. Unfortunately, trying to hold on to the crate didn’t help much, either. My foot came off the ladder, the ladder slid backwards, and I went down. Backwards, which meant no nails, but which also meant no way of stopping myself. When the dust settled, I was on the floor on my hip, hoping I’d not broken my wrist. I hit it on something, the ladder, the garage door supports, the crate, who knows? It’s swollen and purple in a few areas, but it still works. My hip is purple in a few spots, too, and I have a feeling it’ll be sore for a day or two. I thumped my knee on something, and my back has decided that it is also upset with me. No ruptured discs, just very grumpy.

I’ll be fine in a day or two, but the worst part isn’t the actual falling. Its that I’d already given up. Not that I have an interest in falling on cement floors, but I’d rather have done it while I was still thinking I might succeed, when it would have been a real “told you so.” Falling after admitting defeat really is just insult to injury.