The Best Of The Accidental Writer

  1. Is It SAFE?
  2. Whew. That Was A Close One
  3. It's Not Our Fault


When he gets that gleam in his eye, I start to get nervous.
He gets that itch and it must be scratched.
He gets VERY excited.
Soon he will be working up a big sweat, working faster and faster, harder and harder, building to an explosive climax.
Yep. You guessed it! He is in the mood for a little . . . Home Improvement!
But why do his well meaning plans tend to go so awry? Like Cliff Huxtable's family on The Cosby Show, I have urges to call an alert: Quick! Hide the tools!
First of all, why do all of his home improvement plans seemed to based upon the availability of a sale at Home Base? I mean, there is nothing wrong with frugality and economy, but things are sometimes on clearance sale for a reason.
And it's kinda cute when he attempts to explain his home improvement projects to me. But either I don't 'get' it, cannot get my mind around it, or I DO, and offer advice. I sometimes share possibilities of dire outcome. Our discussion may become heated.
Did I mention that he tends to be accident prone? He can't help it. Let's just call him Safety Challenged.
I worry.

Ladder; Roof; TV Antenna
I had a bad feeling about his adjusting the TV antenna. I asked him to go get a neighbor to help. I pleaded with him to not go up on the roof. And was that thunder that I heard in the distance?
Okay, up the ladder he went. Hurdle #1 was overcome. But as he balanced on the A pitch roof holding the antenna, he briefly lost his footing. In the struggle to regain his balance a finger got wedged between two pieces of metal and it was almost torn off. To the emergency room we went. I was just thankful that he had not fallen off of the roof.

Ladder; No Warning
I do not trust ladders, even if they are OSHA approved. They can slip and slide, they can fall, they can fold up backwards and entrap your body maybe. I refuse to get on a ladder and try to keep others off of them as well.
His most recent ladder accident involved no warning. I had no idea what he was 'up to' until after the fact.
He lost his footing and went bump bump bump down the ladder. His legs were horribly scraped and he was lucky that he had no broken bones.

Painting 101
Cans spill. Cans literally explode. I am reminded of the terms ert and inert. Paint is definitely ert. And paint can end up in the funniest of places.
The most recent incident involved white paint and brown carpet. Later I found white paint on my black purse. And the dog looks brighter than usual.
Prior to this was the Exploding Can Incident. As he prepared to texturize the bedroom ceiling . . . Ka BOOM . . . SPLAT! Fortunately he was not hurt. And for a while our bedroom had a neat, artsy Abstractionist look.

Misc Parts Around The House; My Little Accident
I understand that these home improvement projects take time. This involves tools and parts; parts that have not yet become part of the whole.That's why they call them parts I guess.
I'm accustomed to tools lying around the house. Occasionally I make the rounds and gather them together. It's downright educational! And for some reason I find rubber mallets to be particularly amusing and have an urge to play with them and . . . uh . . . nevermind.
He's also got boxes of mind boggling little parts. Metal doohickeys and thingamajigs and jobberdos, and probably a widget or two. When something breaks he has a Repairman Epiphany: Hey! I have just the part to fix that! And he probably does.
Parts come in all sizes. For instance, a screw qualifies as a small part; a closet door qualifies as a large part.
This morning I opened the bedroom door on my way back to bed for a nap before work. BANG! CRACK! went something, as it connected with my head.
"What the F*CK?" I responded.
Part of a closet door had been leaning against the wall. Oops. It fell down.
They don't make closet doors like they used to. And apparently my head is pretty hard and resilent, not a scratch or bump is evident. But I suddenly lost my ability to do math, smell smoke, and recall movie titles from 1990.

The way I see it, there are several ways to prevent these wild outbreaks of Home Improvement.
I hide the tools. I explain that a very selective burglar has broken into the house.
I hire a contractor, preferably one that looks like David Duchovny.
I do the work myself. (No . . . nevermind.)
When he gets that gleam in his eye, I divert his attention and quickly tie him up.

Waxing Philosophical
I try to keep in mind that he means well.
He CAN fix stuff, after all.
He seems to ENJOY these little projects.To each his own.
But I hide those power tools anyway.

[end #1]

Whew! That Was A Close One

Grocery Accessibility
Perhaps I should not put groceries on the front seat of my car. But it was a just a :::small::: bag.

Red Hot Chili Pepper High
There I was, proceeding South on a busy six lane California thoroughfare. The Red Hot Chili Peppers blasted on FM, and I was really getting into it.

Fear Of Merging
As I approached the :::fun fun fun::: merging lane, the driver in front of me braked. As I braked, groceries went flying.

Amazing Flying Melon
A cantalope flew off the seat and towards my accelerator. It wedged between my right ankle and that bump thingie on the middle floorboard. The problem as I saw it: How could I brake as necessary, while preventing this rogue melon from lodging on my accelerator? (Well, I coulda used my LEFT foot, but anyway . . . )

Fruit Brouhaha Continues
I simultaneously struggled with the cantalope and tried to drive. I almost drifted into another lane. I imagine that some people thought: 'Ditzy female driver, get it together!' Most California drivers would tend to not notice, however, since most are usually talking on their cellular phones or primping in the rearview mirror. Or both.

I managed to put on my hazard blinkers, merge, and pull over.

Whew. That was a close one.

[end #2]

It's Not Our Fault

Not Our fault
It's not our fault.

It's totally unfair.

We Are Wimmen . . . See Us Drive
Just because we are women drivers and the universe conspires against us, is no reason to have value judgements placed upon us.

Warm And Fuzzy
My best friend Robin and I have been playing and having accidents together, and separately, since the first grade. Geography now separates us. Our accidents are now 50% less fun.

As we got older, some of our accidents, and 'almost accidents', came to involve cars. See: Boys And Cars (::::Another::: Story)

Do You Smell Smoke?
One of our first 'almost accidents' involved a conspicuous looking used car with broken, blanketed windows, a country road in winter, and a bag of pot: it culminated in a smouldering carseat fire as a marijuana seed burnt itself slowly through the seat, to the floorboard, and to China for all we knew. Fortunately we survived in that smoke filled car, as we plodded along at 15 MPH. "Hey! What are YOU looking at?!" We demanded of aghast witnesses who apparently didn't have a life. See: Fruit, Fire, And Everything.

Big Truck (It Was Blue I Think)
In the next incident, years later, Robin and I were rear ended by a monster pickup truck while merging. It happened so quickly, that it was difficult to say :::what:::: happened. The offending truck was . . . HUGE. The tires alone must have been 4 feet high. I think that a ladder was required to get into this vehicle. We were surprised that the truck did not just go :::over::: us, vs connecting with our rear end. Whiplash and a course of pain pills ensued, along with the realization that some husbands/boyfriends tend to ask: "How is the car/truck?" before they ask "Are you okay, hon?" ;-)

These days our accidents and almost accidents occur in CA and NY, respectively.

My only transgression (of record) as a driver occurred a couple of years ago, ruining my perfect driving record. Sleep deprived, I drove across town to the health food store and . . . See: On Becoming A Statistic.

Zzzzzzzzooooooom Zzzzzzzzooooom
In the meantime Robin had accrued several speeding tickets. Court involved a really really strict judge who sadly would not trade upon sexual favors; traffic school was a real hoot.

Food Item / Accident Conspiracy? Quick! Call Oliver Stone
Recent 'almost accidents' involved my grappling with a cantalope on my accelerator, near the merge lanes at Highway 50 and Sunrise Boulevard in Gold River CA. See: Whew! That Was A Close One

Amazing Flying Peppers
Oddly, Robin's last 'almost accident' occurred at about the same time that mine did, on a rural highway in Western NY state. As she traveled Highway 34/96 she found herself behind a big truck. Suddenly :::something::: flew from underneath said truck, before going under her car and doing damage there. What WAS that thing anyway? Strangely, it was a huge institutional # 10 can of roasted peppers. But where did it come from? The offending truck was not a # 10 Roasted Pepper truck!

Hmmm . . . I wonder if her husband had the nerve to show skepticism?

Summing Up
Give us credit where credit is due.

Our 'almost accidents' did not become real accidents.

Our actual accidents were few and far between.

So there.

[end #3]

Copyright 2000 By Yadda yadda yadda . . .

Submitted By: A F Waddell
Dec 17, 2000 16:57

This joke is rated: PG