by David High LA VETA — The last game of the season, parent’s night, and a spirited
I’m at the stage in my life, and have been for quite some time now, where I don’t fear things that go bump in the night. The living, breathing things like car salesman, lawyers, traffic police, ex-wives and drunks – those animated living things that can cause you problems – are what I’m talking about. I’ve learned to deal with these things even if it’s only to turn and flee screaming some four letter word!
It’s the things that don’t go bump in the night that seem to have me on a dead run. In fact I’m fairly sure at his point they are winning the war against me in a route. These inanimate objects are my nemesis to put it mildly: The small little splinters of wood and wire in life, so to speak. The shoelace that breaks when you’re bending over to tie it, causing your fist to fly up hitting you squarely in the nose, like a Mike Tyson knockout punch is a perfect example. The throw rug that waits patiently – like a wild-eyed mountain lion – for you to walk by unsuspectingly, so it can lurch up and sink it’s teeth into the tip of your toe. And those unfeeling packages that break your fingernail when all you were trying to do was follow the instructions to “open here”.
They are a ruthless group, those enemies disguised as packages. Low hanging cabinets, doors, and hanging planters especially, will jump with glee at the chance to smack you in the head. They’re everywhere, don’t be fooled by a seemingly harmless hairbrush or can opener or even an innocent looking toothpick. They’re after blood.
Insurance companies say that most people who die by accident are within ten miles of their home. I say you’re lucky if you can get out the front door of your home in one piece.
At first, being young and inexperienced, I reacted in anger when these things would attack, but then I realized I was just encouraging them with my ire. So, I adopted a false I couldn’t care less attitude, thinking that would discourage them. This as we all know doesn’t work. Thereafter, for a while, I found myself walking bent over around the house wearing a football helmet and knee pads, with a well placed forearm in front of me for protection. Not a pretty sight I assure you.
These inanimate objects are the devil, I tell you. They can have you mumbling to yourself and using a drool cup in no time if you don’t defend yourself.
I have yet to come up with any useful suggestions for you in the battle, but if you want to talk I’ll be the one twitching like Don Knotts over in the Self Help section of the local bookstore.