Today, the garage door fell on my head.
Correction: (I exaggerate, as usual).
The “garage door” is actually a shed-like garage that, at one time, during the 1950s, housed a tiny car. The “door” is one that you push open up above your head and it’s ancient. Today, the shed-garage houses our unpacked boxes of stuff and crap and kids’ outdoor toys and gardening equipment and bikes and probably mice and raccoons and spiders.
When I say “it fell on my head” I actually don’t mean that the door touched my head, or any other body part. I managed to step aside before the one side derailed. I left if hanging precariously and called for DH to take care of it. (He was not impressed).
(He also did not appreciate the rope that was attached to the door that the 4yo tied there in order to help him close the door.)
(I thought it was ingenious, DH thought it was stupid and the reason why the door was crooked and derailed in the first place.)
(Oh, and also it was my fault for not supervising the child and noticing that his ingenuity is actually dangerous and could potentially kill someone, like it almost did me today.)
(I’m done using brackets now.)
But it sounds more dramatic to say “the door fell on my head”, and hopefully induces some kind of sympathy from some people, about how “haaaaard” my life is today.
* * *
In this part of Canada, the month of November is typically described as gloomy, dark, cold and miserable.
Not one of those terms is accurate this November. We are enjoying cool, sunny and mostly dry weather, allowing me to sit on the front step while watching the children play together on the driveway. And sip wine with the kind neighbour whose kids are here too.
There is no reason to complain about the weather right now.
And this is hard for Canadians, I’ll have you know!