As you are aware, the other day I wrote a story about using a jackhammer to bust up my porch and repair a large crack that had formed. Apparently though, Julie didn't think the end of my story lived up to anticipation of the lead-in when she claimed, "Glad nothing went wrong BUT with such foreshadowing you needed a better ending than, 'Everything was fine.' "
Well Julie, I am now happy to provide you with, as Paul Harvey would say, the rest of the story.
Yes, it's true, the porch job went as well as it could have. The jackhammer (and operator) performed perfectly, the cement mixed into a beautiful smooth paste that was easy to work with, and unlike what would have happened to Dan - I didn't shear off any of my toes.
The mission was accomplished without incident and my work was done.
Fast forward to this last Sunday when I decided to clean my garage and prepare it for winter.
Motorcycles and snowblowers were moved, summer goods were stored in the attic, and the 50 lb bag of leftover cement was needing to be put away. No problem, I grabbed the bag by the top, lifted it up to carry it, and dropped it right back on the floor while a severe pain shot straight up my arm from my hand.
Ok, the good news is it's not broken. The bad news is I tore the tendon between my ring and baby finger on my right hand. The worse news is I have gigs on the horizon with The Receders in just a few weeks.
THAT could possibly go wrong.
There Julie. Are you happy now?