Note To Self

Today I was merrily cleaning up my daughter's old room (did I say merrily and cleaning in the same sentence?).  She is coming home tomorrow and I am very excited. 

It's funny how quickly things can accumulate in a room when no one is using it.  There were bags of wool I have yet to spin, Mason jars I have yet to use, and old wine bottles we'll one day fill with home made wine.  I was feeling extra happy and quite strong as I carried a Rubbermade tub out to our old shed.  With the few ounces of strength I had left in me, I precariously balanced the tub on one knee as I heaved open the heavy shed door.  Pride flowed through my veins as I carefully escalated up the wobbly stairs while simultaneously holding the crate in my hands and the door open with my rear end.  With one big shove, I pushed the door wide enough to get both myself and my heavy load up the last step and in through the opening before the door could catch my foot or I lost my load.  That's when it happened.  I guess I had more suppressed adrenalin than I thought because although the door swung powerfully open, it came back just as quickly (with the help of a unexpected gust of wind) and slammed shut with me tucked safely inside.

Not so bad, I'm sure you're thinking.  Not so bad unless you consider the fact that there is a latch on the outside and no way to access it from the inside.  That stupid door.  It never closes.  Not even when I slam it from the outside.  Sure enough, in today's 90 degree (plus) heat, the wood shrunk back to its original size and the door performed in perfect working order.

So there I was, dumbfounded.  I didn't even put the box down for several minutes because I was in such shock.  This seemed like something out of a horror movie.  You know, the one where some silly girl creeps up the stairs because she heard a noise... and then SLAM!  The door shuts behind her and she's locked inside with the monster.  Yes, there I was in my very own starring role in this year's biggest headliner, "Woman Skeleton Found Christmas Eve as Husband Pulls Old Ornaments Out of Shed."  What a humiliating way to die.  How on earth will I ever get out?  Wait a minute, I thought, I know Tae-Bo.  I knew all those exercise tapes from the 80's would one day pay off.  I'll kick my way out.

There must be a mathematical equation for kicking solid objects with intent to destroy while baking in a 110* box.  You know the type... How much sweat accumulates, how much energy is exerted, and how many kicking attempts are made if a horror drama queen gets stuck in an over-sized coffin?  You do the math, I already know the answer.

My next thought was to pray.  Actually, I think I was probably praying the entire time because at that moment I could hear my husband's noisy muffler coming down our steep dirt road.  Do I have any energy left to whistle so he can hear me?  I'm known around these parts for my very loud, and completely unfeminine, way of calling people to dinner.  Fortunately, there was no need.  Jeff drove right up to the front of the shed (Thank God!).  You should have seen his face (I could though the only crack I made in the door with my Tae-Bo) when he heard my raspy voice shouting, "Let me Out!"

It took him a moment to realize where I was what had happened and he asked, "How long have you been in there?" As he quickly opened the door.

"Not long.  You came home just in time."

It's so great to have a punctual husband and a very large God!