I have a huge fear of falling. Why? I don't know. Maybe my mother dropped me on my head when I was a baby. Actually, that wouldn't surprise me and would probably explain a few things.
Anyway, my aunt and I decided to tackle cleaning out my garage and making a pile of stuff to put in a yard sale. Cool. We're going to the beach together in a few weeks and that'd be a great way to pay for gasoline.
I'm not a hoarder, but I do have issues getting rid of stuff. I can't possibly throw that away! I could use it for . . . yeah, no.
After those hoarder shows started airing on cable, I realized it could happen to me if I let it. Over lunch once, a friend said she told her husband he's "one dead cat away from being on Hoarders."
Brilliant! My new mantra! Now I look at stuff differently: do I really need this . . . used paper bag? Broken bird feeder? Hole riddled underpants? Really? Really??
One dead caaaaat!
The thought of me shuffling through a maze of haphazardly stacked newspapers, worn clothes and empty Crystal Light containers, with the distant sound of kittens meowing is more than enough to get me to throw crap away!
The piles in the garage got away from me before I came to this new way of thinking. Luckily, my aunt Cathy loves to clean and organize. I don't know where she got that from and am guessing she's a mutant. Or adopted. But who am I to deny her the archaeological adventure that is my garage?
So we dug around, looking for junk to sell.
Apparently I had forgotten that I had pushed my lawn mower into the driveway when we first began digging. I realized it was behind me when I backed into it with my calves while dragging a massive dog crate out of the garage. Whoopsie!
I hate those slow motion moments almost as much as I hate the thought of falling . . . that out of control feeling of knowing what's about to happen, but being helpless to stop it. Damn.
When I backed into the mower, I was thrown off balance and landed on my butt on top of it, which then started rolling--with me on it--down the hill! I flailed around uselessly, sliding for what seemed like forever and distinctly remember thinking, "Ass over teakettle!" which made me laugh.
Somehow, I toppled off of the lawn mower before it rolled between our cars and into the street, but not before bruising the hell out of my both my ass and my pride.
Cathy was mortified! I was thrilled, not because I fell, but because nothing seemed broken and she appeared to be the only witness! As hilarious as my pinwheeling self looked in my mind's eye, I really had no desire to see the real thing on YouTube. Some visuals are better left to the imagination.
I still fear falling, but my skull is intact, we had a good laugh and now I can dance around in my garage.