You know what I hate?
I hate starting a post with that fuckin’ question; that’s what I hate.
Because it means I have to talk about something I don’t like to do, but have done it anyway. These days I’m trying to keep the hate to a minimum, if you know what I mean.
But there are still some things I hate, or at least I really dislike them.
One, is sitting on the floor. I don’t do it. Ever.
That’s why some caveman, 5 million years ago, invented the fuckin’ chair, two seconds after sitting down on a stone that was just the right height for his hairy ass.
“You know what, Bunga Bungo?”
“Uga buga bluga?” replied Bungo. Don’t ask me what the hell that means; I’m not a fuckin’ caveman, but it probably means, “Hell no, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”
“We should start making these stone thingys for all the fashionable caves!”
“Wuga Wuga,” answered Bungo. Which means, “Why not?”
And the fuckin’ chair was born!
But I digress, as I always do. Chairs rock. Floor sitting sucks. Period.
But you know what I hate more than sitting on the floor?
Sitting, standing, or doing ANYTHING on a ROOF!
But that’s what I was doing this morning, and most of the afternoon: crawling around on the roof of the shed that Greg and I are building for my little farmers market.
I was just about finished laying down all these redwood shingles–I was starting the very last row of them at the top–and had been banging away with the pneumatic stapler all day without mishap.
That’s until I took my mind off of the job, for one second.
The Accidental Acupuncture
I put down the first shingle on the last row, which had an overhang of a couple of inches. I reached under the shingle to make sure that I was putting the staple into an actual 2×4 rafter, and not into thin air on the other side, when I pulled the trigger a little early, that is, before I had really looked to see where I was aiming.
Guess where the fucker was aimed?
Yep, on the other side of the 2×4, right where my middle finger was waiting to receive it.
BANG! The gun went off, the staple went through the shingle with no problem, and right into the tip of my middle-fuckin-finger!
Yes, there were some choice words and verbs from me, and a stream of blood running down my hand, onto the shingles, the ladder, the parking lot. It was awesome!
Nothing a little anti-germy liquid, a couple of bandaids, and some tape won’t fix, and I was back in action.
The Moral of the Story Is…
One, acupuncture really works to relieve pain!
Before I punctured my middle finger, my back, legs, feet, arms, shoulders, and pretty much everything else was either cramping up, or screaming stiff! But one split second of accidental acupuncture focused my attention so acutely on the throbbing, hemorrhaging pain in my finger, that I plumb forgot about all my other aches, stiffnesses, and sorenesses! It’s a MIRACLE CURE! Well, I forgot about them for a little while anyway.
Second, I learned–for the one thousandth time–that if you’re working on something, pay thefuckattention to what you’re doing! You won’t, not always, so one day you’ll bang a staple into a finger, or lop one off with a saw or slice the tip off with a chef’s knife–I’ve personally done that one too many times to remember. But you should pay attention to what you’re doing. Do as I say, not as I do.
Why else should you pay attention?
For one, you might prevent the amputation, or accidental acupuncture of a digit, but mostly it’s because paying attention means staying in the NOW, and that’s the only way to Zen!
Okay, that was a bit of a stretch, and a Parthian Shot, but hey, what do you want from an old, non-bendy, Zen Novice at the end of the day?
Where’s my bourbon anyway?