So, I fell off the roof

So, because this year hadn’t yet  given me enough reasons to celebrate its grisly, horrible demise, it came to pass that I suffered one more calamity this weekend.

In the hopes of being better neighbors and local citizens, we decided that this year we would not opt to leave our house dark through the entire holiday season.  After a quick, pleasant trip to the hardware store, we came home flush with late-season-bargain decorations to put our house — and ourselves, after something of a bummer few weeks — into the festive mood.

Thus we broke out the wreaths, cracked out the extension cords, unwound the lights and propped up the ladder.  Tina began surveying choice locations for Yuletide cheer, and I, for my part, fell off the roof.

I didn’t plan to fall off the roof.  It was more of a spur-of-the-moment thing that just sort of presented itself.  I didn’t even realize I was going to fall off the roof until the very instant  that the previously-wholly-stable ladder slid out from under me, after which it really was the only thing to do.

It’s hard to explain why I thought landing on — and subsequently cracking — my elbow was the right choice, but sometimes you just have a feeling, and you have to go for it.  Bouncing off of my butt on the driveway, spinning in the air and crushing my right hand under my own bodyweight was just sort of  a flourish… you know, that extra effort that let Tina — who had made the time to come around the corner as I plummeted — know that I really wanted it to be special.

I know she thought it was cool.  The way she smoothly scooped me into the car, and slid me into an Emergency Room only minutes later, may give a casual observer the impression that she was seized with a cold fury at my hapless stupidity.  Oh, but I know better; I know she appreciates my efforts to make our first married Christmas together an unforgettable one.

And over the next six weeks, as I’m unable to help in even the most basic household tasks — from laundry to shoveling the driveway — she’ll be reminded again and again of just what kind of a man she married.

It really is the greatest Christmas gift ever.  And if you agree, hey — I’m sure that Tina will be the first to tell you to go fall off a roof too.

  • Kacey @ Kacey’s Kitchen

    The whole event just sounded so horrifically graceful that I wonder how I’ve been able to avoid pulling the same stunt myself!

    Hope your painkillers are stocked and you feel better soon!

  • Hellcat13

    Couchful solidarity, my friend. (Although, I can at least fold laundry, so I’m one up on you there.)

  • Susan

    You are absolutely correct. You have made this Christmas a memorable one. Well done sir, I look forward to next years adventure.

  • elsewise

    Mike, if you were going to try to National Lampoon the holiday light experience, you were supposed to staple-gun your sleeve to the roof before the ladder fell out from under you. Next year, try harder.

    (In all seriousness, OW. Sorry you’ll have to confess that story to everyone who asks about your arm. Can you make up a good bar brawl or something?)

  • Tara

    Ouch Mike! I’m really sorry to hear this and I hope you heal soon.


    Drink a lot on New Year’s Eve. It will help both of you get the memory of him falling off the roof out of your head.

  • M

    Can’t wait to hear how you top this on Valentine’s Day.

  • Kristie

    Send me Canadian narcotics, please.

    • Tina

      You know that we travel to the States specifically so that we can get the “good” Excedrine, right? Canadian narcotics are somewhat lacking, my friend.

  • Nanco

    Mike, I was scared for you when I read “first married Christmas together”, then remembered. Phewf!

    Do Americans consider Canadian beer a “narcotic”? Teehee.