Monday, February 4, 2013

Dreamy Afternoon

My back has become progressively sorer throughout the day.  Yesterday I got home from work a little bit late.  I thought it was too late to mow the yard and all of that good stuff, so I would just relax in the yard and listen to the radio to see what 610 had to say about the Astros and Rockets situations. Mowing could wait a day, I thought.  I pulled out a lawn chair that has a wooden frame with a low-hanging canvas seat and back similar to the one pictured below, but with arm rests.

Anyhow, I sat down and started listening to the post-drivetime fellows who are now refreshingly Matt Jackson-free. How nice. I brought no reading materials with me, so I decided to just lean back and close my eyes.  It probably took between 5 to 10 minutes for me to fall asleep. It was really a state just outside of consciousness as there were a lot of aural stimuli around with the radio, birds, dogs barking, etc. So I was still hearing things in the background and aware of my surroundings even though I wasn't really paying attention.  So, when I felt something rubbing against my ankle it took a while for me to arouse myself from the semi-slumber I was in.  But I finally opened my eyes and looked down to see a huge black snake moving across my feet.  Needless to say, I  Freaked!  This thing was over three feet long!  I yanked my feet back toward me, which was more than the chair was prepared for.  As I tried to get further away from the snake, and thus further up the back of the chair, it slowly toppled backward. The point of time at which I realized the chair was not going to rock back forward to the time it actually hit the ground seemed to take about 10 seconds, but I was helpless to do anything about it.  So I braced for the ground.  But, while I thought I was going to land on some nice, soft soil with a layer of thick grass, I connected with one of the chair's wooden frames right in the middle of my back, and so the tumbling commenced.  I was in a great deal of pain and was still rolling when I realized I had no idea where the snake went.  And so began visions of Lonesome Dove. As I jumped to my feet, I saw the snake going beneath the deck, where I assume it is still lying in wait. While I'm sure it would have been a comical sight to behold, I'm glad no one was around to witness such buffoonery.

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