This morning, I decided to give the hedge around my back yard a haircut. I climbed up and down the ladder and wielded the hedge trimmer like a barber.
Afterwards, I collected the leaf debris and tossed it into 55 gallon plastic container (or toter) and rolled it down to the corner (this week, in my neighborhood, the City of Sacramento deigns to pick up street piles the same way as it used to do traditionally without complaint, but these days it does only grudgingly in the autumn). The journey to the corner is always pleasant, because the neighbor's chihuahua comes out to her fence to collect loving attention from me as I pass by.
But today, as I rolled the container (with an open lid) down my driveway, the wheels began slipping out from under the container, and the container began tilting over. As I started running to catch up and regain control, I stepped on the open lid. The container toppled and I fell flat on my face.
I jumped up and quickly brushed myself off. T'ain't nothin'! But suddenly, I realized I had an audience. Unbeknownst to me, the apartment dwellers next to me had been poised to enter their parked auto as I was moving my leaves, and they saw the whole thing.
"Are you all right?" they asked. This couple, in their 20's, were serious and grave in demeanor. They were not accustomed to seeing people in their 50's fall flat on their faces. The fellow attempted some feeble humor: "I suppose this must be one of those days when nothing goes right." "I'm fine!" I said, with false cheeriness. Laughing, with effort, I said "I just - stepped on the lid!"
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