CHAIR FROM HELL AND SLIPPERY SLOPE RIDE

Slippery Slopes

 

 

The Tennessee mountains are damp and wet. Perpetually wet, as I'm finding out. The ground is soft and mushy, slippery, carpeted with rich green moss. And that's on the rainless days. When it rains, it's an obstacle course of mud.

My house here in the mountains is (of course) on a slope. Everything is slanty or slopey and it takes awhile to get used to it.

Spell Check assures me that the words slanty and slopey do not exist, but I don 't give a damn. They exist in the mountains of Tennessee.

This isn't a lesson in topography. It is merely a prelude to my story; an appetizer before the main course.

Here's the main course:

It's raining relentlessly all day Saturday. I feel lazy and lethargic - - alarmingly unmotivated. The house is still empty. My furniture won't be delivered until Tuesday. All I have is a small table, a metal folding chair, and that ancient repulsive reclining chair that the previous owner left.

The repulsive reclining chair has turned out to be an island of refuge in a sea of nothingness. Me and my three cats actually battle one another to utilize the chair. If I get into the chair first and fall asleep, I usually wake up to find two or more cats crowded in the chair with me.

To say that our sleeping arrangement is uncomfortable would be a gross understatement. I'm nearly crippled from aches and pains. When I wake up it usually takes ten minutes for me to dislodge myself from the cats and the chair's unwholesome grip. Then I limp and stagger around all day doing a bad imitation of Quasimodo.

This afternoon my rapidly deteriorating body is wracked (racked?) with pain. I'm in a foul mood - alternately grumbling curses at the chair, the cats, and the incredibly slow moving company (which seems to be coming via wagon train).

Despite the rain and the pain, I decide to venture outside to quickly clean one of the rain gutters - which has been hopelessly clogged with leaves. This impromptu project would be the highlight of a boring day.

After cleaning the gutter, I decide to wander around the side of the house to check something in the garage.

It's still raining. Mud is everywhere. I'm trying to be careful......
....but......

I suddenly slip on the top of a slippery slope.
Both legs fly out in front of me. I land on my ass in a sea of mud, hurting both wrists as I instinctively try to break my fall.

Stars and birdies orbit around my head, like in a Warner Brothers cartoon.

Before I even have time to comprehend the situation, I'm sliding on my ass at breakneck speed down the hill. It's better than an E Ticket ride at Disneyland. Or a water slide.

As my ride gains momentum, I have periodic regrets about living so far away from a hospital. My regrets are expunged as I hit the next mud puddle and slam to a stop.

It takes me a few seconds to breathe again. And about another minute to assess the situation.

I'd made it down a mountainside riding solely on the cushion of my ass and lived to tell about it. Thanks to the big mud puddle at the end of the ride. It acted like a gigantic airbag, courtesy of Mother Nature.

I laboriously crawl on my hands and knees up the slope and back to the house. It's only then that I realize my clothes are covered in mud and I won't have a washing machine until Tuesday. Well, at least I can take a shower.

It would all be hilarious if it wasn't so painful.