For end of the year teacher gifts, I turned the kids loose with sharpies on some white plastic flower pots. The hubby sprayed them with clear coat... They came out cute. It was father's day, and the kids wanted to make one for the hubby. Since this is a big secret surprise, spraying the clear coat on this one fell to me. The application of the clear coat went uneventfully. I left the Father's Day Flower pot in the driveway to cure. I capped the spray can an headed back to the garage, and then it all went south....
Once inside the garage, it made sense to leave the spray can with the other flower pots in case a second coat was deemed necessary. The other pots were set on a rubbermaid lid, balanced on a go kart stand (you can picture a saw horse with a little foam padding across the horizontal part). The riding lawnmower was parked between the garage door and the stand. The regular mower was angled in front of the stand. Beyond that were bikes and trikes and power wheels... you get the picture, its a real garage for a family with a mechanic, mom, and 2 kids...
I stepped over the pushmower to set the paint on the lid beside the pots. I picked up my back foot, promptly tangling it in the pull cord to start the push mower. I had one of those moments of panic where your life flashes in front of your eyes... I had too much momentum to stop, and besides, in that instant, I wasn't thinking "Hey, I'd have to squeeze the lawnmower handle to start it" but rather, if I pull this cord with my foot I'll start the mower and cut my leg off. I toss the spray can near it's intended location and put my hands out to break my fall. My left hand fails miserably at this task, missing all things I could possibly grab on the way down, so I focus in that instant in making contact with my right. Well I did... My right hand catches the very edge of the rubbermaid lid... Except we have to remember, this is balanced on the stand with nothing but light plastic pots holding it down. So the stand acts as a fulcrum, the lid as a see saw, and the pots, spray can, and lid are all catapulted into the air, flying across the garage and tumbling in various locations, and my hand once again is falling.
The stand is getting closer and closer to my face, so I turn my head, and catch myself with my nostril. Well, really the whole side of my face from my pointy teeth/lip area to my brow bone. Then everything stops... I wait for a second, get my bearings, stand up, check my foot (no longer tangled). Breath a few times, collect all the flower pots and things (this time MOVING the lawn mower to put them in their designated location.
For the most part, the story ends there. However, the next day, sitting all alone, I start having a little stinging burning sensation along side my nose... so I announce to the world "My mostril is hurting" and the world replies back with "" and the world responded: "I hate it when my mostrils bruise" and "yeah, bruised mostrils are the worst!"
This, of course, resulted in the need to explain the mostril story. Explaining the mostril story, when don't in person, is accompanied by pantomiming the events and reliving the momentary fear of death... and at least one coworker crying from laughing at me so hard. So, sorry if you need a tissue now... Next time, I'll try to get it on video!
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