Can't Win for Losing

After the chicken soup incident Friday, I thought that my weekend could only get better. At first, things were going well. I spent the day with Kirsten at her church in Hinesville. After that, I went over to my parents' house to hang out with them. My mom was fishing on the dock, so I went down to join her. I stayed and talked for a bit, and then decided to go back up to the house and take a nap.

Now, there are always a few dogs running around our yard, so my dad has built a fence that goes across the width of the walkway to the dock. That way, when the dogs are with us on the dock, they can't run away. The fence itself is simply a wooden frame that fits the width of the walkway and prevents them from running the length of the walkway. If they had any sense, they could jump into the marsh, thus bypassing the gate altogether, or simply jump over it. It's more like a gate a parent would put up in front of set of stairs to keep a kid from climbing them. The middle of the frame is covered in chicken wire so that the dogs can still see through.

The frame itself is not heavy, but it is rather cumbersome. All one has to do is simply pick it up and move it smidge in order to get around it, but I usually don't. Normally, I hang onto the chicken wire and put my foot on the other side of the frame. Then I hoist myself around to the other side-- and for a second I'm hanging over the marsh. So far it's worked for me. Until now.

My dad, for reasons only known to him, decided to replace the chicken wire with a plastic mesh that I mistakenly thought was as strong as the wire. During my brief hang time over the marsh, my fingers broke the plastic and I desperately clung to the gate trying with all my might to keep from falling. It felt like an eternity. If I hung on, I might fall forward and whack my head on the walkway, so I decided to let go and just fall. So I did. I fell feet first into the mud, about two inches deep, and then landed on my bottom. I was able to pull my feet out of my shoes (luckily I was wearing clogs) but I couldn't get the shoes out. I had to leave them for my dad to retrieve later on.

I'm not feeling too graceful these days. I spilled chicken noodle soup on my clothes Friday, and then dove feet first into mud on Saturday. At least Sunday was uneventful-- except for getting rained on in the Wal-mart parking lot after church, but that's my fault for not remembering to buy the ground beef I needed to make tacos for Granny. Maybe things will get better this week. Knowing me, though, I'll sit on a bench with wet paint or walk smack-dab into a brick wall. It's only a matter of time.