"My life flashed before me eyes"
Finally after a month I'm back home.
Now to address the real issue. Last Wednesday My Dad and I helped my Grandpa to put his new five hundred and fifty pound boiler down to his basement. Thankfully he had an outside entrance otherwise it would have been impossible to get this beast down there. We put it-the boiler- on a dolly and started wheeling it down the ten dangerously steep steps. Like the brilliant guy everyone knows I am, I got in front of the boiler so that it was above me on the narrow stairway. Five seconds later I realized the folly of this move. I think I was in one of the most precarious positions of my life (my Dad denies this, but I was under it, not him). As it began to be lowered, gravity started to pull this monster down the steps. I was trying to keep it from falling down on top of my by pushing up with all of my awesome strength. This didn't work. Slowly it was bearing down on me, inch by agonizing inch. I realized in these few moments that I would not be able to get out of the way because of the walls on both sides of me. In these moments I pictured myself in several different scenarios. Slowly the boiler lowered down on me until I was smooshed on the stairs in a slow crinkled frenchfry style death. No. I bolted and the monster fell down after me before I could get away, ending my life in a flash. No. I shoved it aside as it fell but it still smeared me on the wall. I decided this last option was my best with a survival rate of about 40%. I realized it would be difficult to get the Beast off of me once I was crushed beneath it, and wondered if the fire department would have to help.
As I thought these thoughts, the boiler had slowly pushed me backwards until I was leaning with it over me. Then it stopped. Grandpa had attached a rope with a pulley to the dolly and with my father's massive strength I was saved from having a closed casket funeral. My Dad tells me they had it all under control. But I was the one under the supposed control, not him.
So, because of my brush with death, my Dad let me have the rest of the week off to recuperate.
HAHAHA.
Now to address the real issue. Last Wednesday My Dad and I helped my Grandpa to put his new five hundred and fifty pound boiler down to his basement. Thankfully he had an outside entrance otherwise it would have been impossible to get this beast down there. We put it-the boiler- on a dolly and started wheeling it down the ten dangerously steep steps. Like the brilliant guy everyone knows I am, I got in front of the boiler so that it was above me on the narrow stairway. Five seconds later I realized the folly of this move. I think I was in one of the most precarious positions of my life (my Dad denies this, but I was under it, not him). As it began to be lowered, gravity started to pull this monster down the steps. I was trying to keep it from falling down on top of my by pushing up with all of my awesome strength. This didn't work. Slowly it was bearing down on me, inch by agonizing inch. I realized in these few moments that I would not be able to get out of the way because of the walls on both sides of me. In these moments I pictured myself in several different scenarios. Slowly the boiler lowered down on me until I was smooshed on the stairs in a slow crinkled frenchfry style death. No. I bolted and the monster fell down after me before I could get away, ending my life in a flash. No. I shoved it aside as it fell but it still smeared me on the wall. I decided this last option was my best with a survival rate of about 40%. I realized it would be difficult to get the Beast off of me once I was crushed beneath it, and wondered if the fire department would have to help.
As I thought these thoughts, the boiler had slowly pushed me backwards until I was leaning with it over me. Then it stopped. Grandpa had attached a rope with a pulley to the dolly and with my father's massive strength I was saved from having a closed casket funeral. My Dad tells me they had it all under control. But I was the one under the supposed control, not him.
So, because of my brush with death, my Dad let me have the rest of the week off to recuperate.
HAHAHA.
posted by Ben H at 12:52 AM
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