The other day my mom and dad had to purchase a new air conditioner. Their old model decided to do it's best Elvis impersonation with some shaking, rattling and rolling and finally barked its death rattle right as the weather began to heat up again this week.
With the old model removed, I help slide the new one in and called it a night. Come this morning my dad needed a little help getting the trim around it, so I swooped in to offer some assistance. For anyone who knows me, I'm not the handiest dude to have around the house. Building trades are not my strong suit, so when things go awry around my home, it's usually a quick call to the repairperson and call it day. In this instance I thought I could help, I mean what could possibly go wrong?
So as we began putting the trim around the new unit, I picked up the hammer and went to work. First attempt was a success and the second attempt found a nail all right -- the nail on my left thumb. The hammer ricocheted off the nail and flattened my thumb, which left me jumping around like I was part of a revival, hands shaking and body trembling.
I tried to say what my mind was thinking, but what came out instead was a mishmash of expletives and broken sentences that as a writer left me somewhat ashamed. Gathering myself I did what most anyone does after such an incident -- I shook my thumb.
To whoever did that for the first time I ask, "What were you thinking?" I just slammed by finger with a hard object so instead of just letting it be, I decided to wave it and shake it hoping the intense motion will somehow lessen the pain. Fat chance.
After a few moments and a few additional shakes and muttered words, I succeeded in driving the nail home and all was well. So now with every tap of the space bar as I type I get to relive that moment and realize once again just how unhandy these hands really are.