Could Have Done Without That...

I just about managed to kill myself on Sunday night. The Boss and I had Tivo'd (did I just make up a new word?) the Amazing Race so we could actually watch it instead of attempting to watch while breaking up kid wars.

Because I am blind as a referee, I have to sit about a foot and a half from my busted up, old school TV.

****Editor's Note
I once tried to get my doctor to lobby my insurance company to buy me a new large screen HD TV for "therapeutic" reasons. I guess he had some "moral objections" or something, because he politely declined to write the prescription. One more reason I ain't going back there again. In the mean time I've been thinking we should have a blog-a-thon to raise money for a fun little campaign that is close to my heart:

"Fatdaddy's Big Screen. For just a few dollars you could help a fat, bald, blind man watch football without blocking everyone else's view. This poor &@$^@! needs your help and only you can give it to him. Won't you please use your perfectly healthy eyes to look into your non-cholesterol clogged heart and help him out?"

C'mon. You'd donate. Especially if I could get Sally Struthers to read the voice over. You know you would. Alright. I wouldn't either... but you can't blame a guy for trying.
****

Anyway, I HAD a nice comfortable little chair that I could pull up to the side of the TV and watch without rearranging the whole living room or blocking everyone else's view. I say had because on Friday the kids busted it into three pieces. So Sunday night, I'd pulled a dining room chair into the living room. After about an hour of that I'd had enough and once the kids went to bed, I talked the Boss into pulling the couch over (I'll bet she gets a serious case of google eyes trying to sit next to me to watch TV, but she never complains. I think she was born without a complainer gene and that is why she puts up with me).

I set the dining room chair in the corner next to the couch, turned off the lights and we watched the Amazing Race. Or part of it. As usually happens on Sunday night we dozed off long before it was over.

I woke up around 11 and turned the TV off. The room was blacker than a math teacher's soul; but since I can't see anyway it didn't bother me. I got up and forgot all about that D@%&! dining room chair sitting between the couch and the wall. I barked my left shin hard off the sharp bottom edge of the seat.

Since I hadn't seen that one coming, my reflexes were limited to snapping my left leg backward when all my momentum was going forward. My right leg found itself bearing all of my considerable bulk unexpectedly and trying to stop it and the resulting effort pulled a hammy in my right leg.

Within three tenths of a second I went from walking toward the light switch to falling as though pole-axed and then insulting my injuries by bouncing my melon off of the edge of the window sill. It was a three for one kind of deal. I assume my mother will be chagrined to know that my only reflexive action on the way to the ground was to swear. Probably louder than I should have.

The Boss fell asleep watching the "Amazing Race" and woke up to a live action "Three Stooges" short where only Curly made an appearance. We're both lucky it didn't end with a scene from "ER". A day later and my left shin is all ripped up, my right hamstring is still sore, and there's another knot trying to implant itself on my skull. And oh, yeah. The Cubbies blew another lead in the eighth on Sunday.

To her everlasting credit, the Boss didn't laugh at me, but she should have.

What a train wreck she's married to. The woman is a saint.