Yesterday morning the air was pleasant and cool. I decided to go outside with my breakfast and summer reading and enjoy the weather out on our back patio. As I planted myself in my favorite chair the canvas fabric suddenly gave way and—boom!—I was on the cold stone patio floor.
Well, my bottom was on the floor. The rest of my body was entangled in the chair. I was covered in rice crispies and blackberries, and I could barely move. I squirmed and wriggled a bit but it was soon apparent that I was stuck. Seriously stuck.
Slowly I found a way to snake one arm out the side and place my cereal bowl and book on a side table. It took another few minutes to figure out which pocket my phone was in and then to actually extract it. I was pretty well hemmed in on all sides. I texted my teenaged daughter who was in the house. She came immediately,
Let me say now that I completely forgive her for her initial reaction, which was laughter, followed by a hasty apology. I’m sure I did look pretty hilarious. She tried to pull me up and out but I was wedged in. So we texted big sister who lives only a few minutes away and soon I had both daughters trying to pull me out and I felt like Winnie the Pooh in Rabbit’s doorway.
It occurred to me that what I should be striving for in old age is the upper body strength to be able to push out of a collapsed lawn chair. If there is an exercise regimen for that, I need to get to work. Now. Visions of having to call the fire department ran through my head.
Finally I suggested that they turn the entire contraption on its side so I could crawl out with the help of a little gravity. It worked. I wrestled myself free from my temporary prison and we all went inside and had coffee and a chat. I had lost nothing but my dignity and any desire to sit outside and eat my breakfast.
Yes, I do have a picture of what this looked like and no, I am not going to share it because we all know that there are some unscrupulous folks in town who enjoy doctoring photographs and that’s not an invitation I want to provide to anyone. You may assume that my “Oh, Hell” expression in this photograph is formidable. You would also be correct in guessing that the first person outside the family that I notified about this calamity was fellow-blogger Mickey Gomez.
If there’s any greater lesson here it is probably that I am so grateful to have two daughters to come to my rescue and that you shouldn’t leave chairs like that out through all four seasons and expect them to stay intact. Also, I sincerely hope it is the only time I will ever need to message anyone and say,
“Help! I have fallen and I can’t get up.”
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