A View From Above

Nothing throws ice water on my otherwise good mood worse than falling off of something from high up. Such excellent tool-users are we, yet science has been unable to solve satisfactorily for the simple equation (X = human being + 20foot drop), where X = IMJUSTFINE

The fact that I am so fragile is one of my least favorite things about how God made me. It also plays directly into my wholly-unnatural, debilitating fear of ladders - not heights so much, but ladders. Heights I can handle, generally, but I always feel like ladders are laying around scheming.

As far as heights go - I'd gladly trade thumbs for the ability to leap long distances in a single bound and without injury, mostly because I have exceedingly talented toes and could make do, but also because my thumbs are remarkably stubby. Not so stubby, mind you, as my dear friend Gelley Kray's* stubby thumbs; but stubby nonetheless.

Not to harp on "hunting" as a topic, but I was sitting in my deerstand this morning before work when a strange horrible sound startled me from a very comfortable, sound, slumber. This terrifying sound invaded my dream to such a degree that I gasped myself wide-awake and, in so doing, sat straight upright - jerking my head and neck forward and backward in a rapid panic.

Clearly, something was about to eat me.

The huge imbalance in my human condition caused by the disproportionate size of my head, coupled with its weight and momentum, snatched my whole body forward and I came very nearly, almost, oh-so-closely to snatching myself clean out of my tree - perched twenty feet up a lone pine with my head among its lowermost branches.

After a few seconds of general thrashing about and gasping wherein I lost my hat, one glove, and a portion of the back cover to Charles Dickens' "The PickWick Papers"; I came to rest once again in my seat - sweaty and terrified and somewhat off-centered, but none the worse for wear.

I had a few moments shortly afterwards to pause and reflect on the morning's events and I realize now, looking back on it; if I expect to hunt successfully before work without getting killed I'm just not going to be able to snore quite so loud anymore.

*names changed to protect the innocent-ish.