Are you kidding me?!
This post is 1 year and 9 days after the last one? I thought of just posting as though no time had passed and seeing if you would catch that extra year in between. 9 days would be a substantial period of time. 374 days is quite another. Was there nothing of any import that happened during that time? Was I so ridiculously drunk most of the nights that Emily was in Spain that I never managed to get back on and blog (yes), and never again after that?
While she was gone for example, there was the night that I decided to hang our American flag in the stairwell. The stairs take a turn on the way down and as they do so, there is a high, narrow unadorned section of wall above the stairs, that required adornment. It was the perfect width to accept this flag, but as it is above the stairs, I have no ladder that will readily access this area safely. Fortunately, I have a cunning plan. I remove my shirt, shoes and socks, harkening back to the time as a child when I would shimmy myself up the wall in a door jam. I press my feet to one wall, and my back to the other and start to climb (think the reverse of how the Grinch climbs down one of the chimneys in the Christmas movie). I don't have the friction I desire and quickly drop back down to where I started. I go into the bathroom turn on the faucet, and splash a wee bit of water on my back. Not much, but enough, I theorize, to provide some tackiness. Kind of like a sweaty back, I think to myself. Back, up the stairs, I resume my climbing attempt. I have about 7 feet to go above the starting step before I will be in the correct position. I have two small nails pinned between my lips, ready to tack into the wall where they will accept the grommets that mark the corners of the flag that I intend to hang. The hammer needed to pound these nails into place is held tightly in one hand, as I fortunately need little more than the leverage of my feet and a corresponding wiggle of my back to move up the wall and ever closer to my goal. The climb resumed, with the water on my back, I quickly realize something more is in my way. The waistband of my boxers are contacting the wall and lessening the friction/grip that I have. My shorts now gone, I return to my climbing quite nude. I climb with difficulty as I weigh a good 80-100 pounds more than when I climbed the door-jam as a child. I reach the height I need, and while trying to maintain the firm pressure outward from my back and feet, I quickly pound the nails into place. The flag had been draped across my stomach and was again, as quickly as possibly, hung over the newly seated nails. I hadn't thought of exactly how smoothly the descent would go. I thought it would be a simple reverse of the climbing portion of the evening, but am immediately proven wrong. The moment I pull one foot back from the wall to place it lower and begin my descent, my entire hold on the wall becomes untenable. I suddenly drop, twisting to my right so that I land rather unevenly on my side on the rather uneven, step-like stairs. The angle of the stairs causes me to further slide down the uneven, step-like stairs until my feet reach the bottom and no more downward motion is possible. I rise to my feet, and try to walk off the excruciating pain. If I wasn't drunk this probably wouldn't have happened since I would've talked myself out of attempting this, but it likely would've hurt much worse. If I wasn't naked, this might not have held the comedic value that I instantaneously realized
This is but an example of the events that deserved blogging, but quite kept me from blogging over the last year. Unfortunately, when I have time to blog, there is little to blog about, but when I have plenty of things to blog about, I rarely have the time to sit down and blog about it.
My sincerest apologies. Lets try this whole blogging thing again.