Life is a fragile thing
Dec. 4th, 2007 10:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wiseheartLast Tuesday, Mum managed to unhing the clothes airer in the bathroom. Somebody had to put it back, as it couldn't wait, of course, until a tall enough person dropped by.
These are the times when I'm considered "somebody".
Now, the bathroom is frigging small. Too small to put any ladder in any proper positure to reach the goddamn airer. The only way to reach it is from the bathtub - if you're tall enough. Which I'm not. Evidently.
So I put a stool into the bathtub, climbed onto the stool, which barely enabled me to reach the place where the airer had to be put back, and after some difficulties fixed the damn thing. In that moment, the stool decided that enough is enough and elegantly skidded out from under me.
I grabbed the towel rack (which now hings in a very awkward angle as a result) with one hand and the airer's plastic rope with the other one. The plastic rope slid through my fingers, causing lovely abrasions that hurt like hell - it felt as if I'd reached into living flame or whatnot. I could barely use my hand for a couple of days. But the towel rack kept me from falling backward and breaking my neck, even if it was a close thing.
It's ironic, how deadly afraid I am of flying and nearly died in an empty bathtub. May the hands of the person blessed who'd fastened the towel rack on the bathroom wall some thirty years ago.
Oh, and Mum's reaction wasn't that we could have waited for a taller person who wouldn't have risked their life for a frigging clothes airer. Nah, she said we should have laid the rubber rug into the bathtub first.
Sometimes it really seems that we're just there to keep this flet in so-called proper order. If you ask me, I'm all for dirt and chaos.
These are the times when I'm considered "somebody".
Now, the bathroom is frigging small. Too small to put any ladder in any proper positure to reach the goddamn airer. The only way to reach it is from the bathtub - if you're tall enough. Which I'm not. Evidently.
So I put a stool into the bathtub, climbed onto the stool, which barely enabled me to reach the place where the airer had to be put back, and after some difficulties fixed the damn thing. In that moment, the stool decided that enough is enough and elegantly skidded out from under me.
I grabbed the towel rack (which now hings in a very awkward angle as a result) with one hand and the airer's plastic rope with the other one. The plastic rope slid through my fingers, causing lovely abrasions that hurt like hell - it felt as if I'd reached into living flame or whatnot. I could barely use my hand for a couple of days. But the towel rack kept me from falling backward and breaking my neck, even if it was a close thing.
It's ironic, how deadly afraid I am of flying and nearly died in an empty bathtub. May the hands of the person blessed who'd fastened the towel rack on the bathroom wall some thirty years ago.
Oh, and Mum's reaction wasn't that we could have waited for a taller person who wouldn't have risked their life for a frigging clothes airer. Nah, she said we should have laid the rubber rug into the bathtub first.
Sometimes it really seems that we're just there to keep this flet in so-called proper order. If you ask me, I'm all for dirt and chaos.
