This past weekend, I finally got my wish. While I was out back grooming the dogs, my husband and my son took up what was left off last Fall: repairing the rotting portions of the railing and spindles on the front entrances to our house. On my to-do list for the entire summer, this is the #1 job nobody wants to tackle. Much of it involves filling in ever-deepening craters with wood putty and replacing the wood that’s too far gone.
It was a brilliant afternoon, punctuated by the sounds of electric clippers (me) and table saw (my son Mark), over-powered by the deafening roar of landscaping equipment (the neighbors). Ah, suburbia! I was just finishing up the dogcuts when I heard my son scream out: Mom! Dad! I instantly knew by the tone and urgency of his voice that he hadn’t just received an acceptance letter to his college of choice.
Mark wasn’t even supposed to be home this weekend. He would have been running at an invitational cross-country meet in Vermont, except that he and my husband had been planning to visit a college in Pennsylvania, a visit that didn’t pan out. Mark had also needed a break from his overloaded schedule of running, competing, applying to college, and dreaming up a plan for his senior project.
The wood repair bugaboo had me seriously doubting my leadership skills. I desperately wanted to cross it off my list so I could proceed to my part of the job--priming and painting, which I couldn’t do until the cutting, nailing, patching and sanding was done. My wish was coming true. Mission was on the verge of being accomplished.
“I cut my finger to the bone!!!”
My husband and I dashed into the room to see Mark holding a bloody hand, wincing and looking pale. The only question was: which emergency room?
In the words of a Monty Python character, ‘twas only a flesh wound. No nerve or tendon damage, bone untouched. Seven stitches closed the hole in his left thumb.
I went out front and put the lid on the wood putty. This is a job for another day, maybe sometime in mid-November when it’s not a race weekend, isn’t raining, and there aren’t any colleges to visit. Maybe I’ll be out there painting the wood in the snow.
Be careful what you wish for.
Recovery to Equilibrium
1 year ago
1 comment:
Ouch!
Hope he feels better.
It might be time to call the super. That's something I often want to do.
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