Adapt
Now, for some light and shade. If you just turned ‘twenty-three’ it was pretty dark times. Although this story stems from a purchase from back then.
When I finally got a queen-sized bed (my dad made me a sleigh bed) but more about that later. I bought some affordable pine furniture to fill my bedroom, two bedside tables, a tall boy with a large blanket drawer down the bottom and an upright bookcase with nice moulding on the top.
Now, I said it was affordable, I meant cheap. However, I added some raw amber water-based paint, some patina (antiquing medium) and some polyurethane in a satin finish and more than a single effort with the sandpaper and what can I say? Carpenters daughter, right here.
Anyway, that’s the background, the tall boy in my current home lives in the ‘return’. File under ‘apartment living’, all new builds must have a window to every bedroom. That means my bedroom has a hallway like space to the window, where I have put my DVD, bookcases and the tall boy (and anything else that didn’t fit anywhere).
So, being one handed and because I don’t stand in front of the tall boy to get the draws open and closed (I did say cheap right? The draws aren’t on runners) making opening one-handed painful and the trials and dilemmas on being one handed and having limited space. I reached down and was hitting the drawer on both ends to get the thing closed.
That’s all background you need so next is the punchline so I hope you stayed with me.
So, recently late one night, putting my clothes away, thinking I might even make it to be by 1am. (Yeah, it’s a realistic goal, even if it’s not one that makes my shrink happy) I obviously hit the tall boy draw one too many times, rather vigorously and the candle stick on top fell off and connected with the top of my head. Yes, it really hurt and yes, I used my favourite word. AND rather than slow it down, it seemed to gather speed as it hurtled towards my foot.
Which foot? I hear you ask. For those who don’t know or don’t remember, my left foot has been affected by my ‘stroke, not stroke’ as I like to call it.
So, of course it landed on my right foot, because I can fucking feel that one. Sweet Jesus, it hurt so much. Lots of swearing as I hobbled to bed and even days later, here is a photo of my bruised toes.
Solution? Need to update the tall boy to open with drawers on coasters for easy sliding and good OH&S. Adapt! Adapt! Adapt!
Hell onWheels/Life One Handed 