Home ownership is dangerous. Ok, for most people, it probably isn’t, but when you’re awkward like me, most things become dangerous.
While you northerners are bracing for yet another snow storm, and worrying about ice, here in Alabama, we’re planting grass seed and getting ready to start our garden. Now that we have a house and a yard, why not get a shed!? It makes sense–keep the lawn mower and the garden tools out where you need them. So, Justin ordered us a little 7’x7′ Rubbermaid shed. We’re so hardcore.
Construction was going well. At the start of it, Justin found me a super adorable salamander, and I got completely sidetracked (the kids were going to be home from school in an hour! Obviously, I couldn’t set him free before they saw his cute face).
After finding a small tub, and mud, the salamander hung out on the trampoline, while I went back to assisting with the Great Shed-Build of 2019. Multiple times I joked about how awesome we were at Rubbermaid-Shed-Building: “Justin! We could go into business!” He wasn’t feeling it.
Step 16 called for 2 (smiling) adults, and 2 step ladders. Well, we have a step ladder, I had been using a cinder block for height boosting. While Justin stood on the step ladder, I pushed against the shed, so the beams would stay in place while he drilled them in. Side one: complete. He hands me the screws, and I’m then supposed to screw the beams in from the opposite side. This is the part of our adventure when things start going south. The beams fall. Justin panics, because our plastic rubbermaid shed is now bending awkwardly. I yell that he should probably get the real ladder out of the garage. But, he’s busy holding beams up, so he asks Xander to get him a step stool.
For anyone who has seen Guardians of the Galaxy II, Xander is Groot, in the scene where they ask Groot to find Yondu’s head fin, and Groot continually comes back with more and more ridiculous items. Xander brought Justin a bucket. At this point I tell Justin we need to switch, because these screws are going nowhere, and I dropped it at least 3 times. :::Switch!:::
Now I’m inside the shed, and the beams are only screwed in on one side, and are sitting on a 1/2″ ledge, waiting for Justin. I was just about to step up on my bucket, when BAM! Insert lots of bad words (because, while I only recall yelling “damnit!” Justin said lots of bad words streamed out of my mouth). Justin: “Are you ok?!”
Me: “No! That goddamn beam just hit me!” Justin walked around the shed, took one look at me, and ran full speed into the house yelling, “we need to go to the ER!” I was wiping blood out of my eye and yelling, “no! we need to finish putting this shed together!” He ran out with paper towels, and I grabbed those flipping beams and stepped back on my bucket.
Every time I pulled the paper towel away from my forehead, blood would leak into my eye. Which of course caused me to laugh uncontrollably. Because, we’re building a plastic shed! Justin kept saying, “seriously, Sammi. We need to go to the ER.”
“Justin, heads just bleed a lot. It’s fine! I’m fine.”
Ok, so maybe it’s not fine. The 4 of us piled into the van and headed to the hospital. Where I then had to explain the situation to the receptionist. And then the triage nurse. She made me throw out my bloody paper towels, and wash the blood from my hands (I was covered). As she put a bandage on, I said, “see? I told my husband, heads just bleed a lot!” She look me right in the eyes and said, “oh no–you need stitches. This is just so you aren’t sitting out there with an open wound.” Cool…cool cool cool.
Justin took the kids on some food adventures, while I sat and waited…and waited…and waited. I really didn’t wait all that long, but the waiting room was full of basic trainees, and they were gross (I’m not kidding, the triage nurse came out and yelled at one: “are you here for upset stomach and vomiting?? Are you eating?! No food or drinks! Go throw that away!” And that boy was drinking orange soda and had just finished raiding the vending machine. Mommy taught you nothing).
Finally, I got called into FunLand. And wasn’t I the talk of the ER. “Is that the forehead wound?!” Kid, you know it! See that bandage?! It’s holding my brains in.
Also, Xander told me that he could smell my brains on the ride to the ER. So, I was bracing for the worst.
The ER Doctor takes the bandage off: “it’s bad, isn’t it?”
“I’ve seen greasy kids do worse.”
“See?! I told my husband, heads just bleed a lot!”
“Oh no–you need stitches.” No one was willing to let me walk away stitch-free!
The doctor then asked me how it happened. “Well, we were building a shed, and a support beam fell and hit me in the head.” Was this a domestic thing? “What?! No!” At which point, I burst out laughing, because the first thing my Mom said when I sent her the picture was, “what on earth? A shovel?” Yes Mom, it was Sergeant Steeves, With the Shovel, In the She-Shed.
The doctor then asks me if I feel safe at home. To be honest, we still have to put the roof on the shed, so I don’t know how safe I can feel.
Now, this is a military hospital, so that means medics and whatnot. Also, this is the start of a 4-day weekend, so there aren’t a large number of folks working (word on the street is that the average wait was 5 hours in the ER. Public Service Announcement: If you aren’t dying, bleeding to death, or if no bones are broken, don’t go to the ER. It’s an EMERGENCY ROOM). The Doctor sends in PFC Babyface (I asked; he was 20). He told me he was worried I was nervous, because of all of the laughing. Honestly, I can’t help it, this is a silly, silly situation, and what can you do but laugh. He explained what has to happen: irrigation, with this sterile water, that is going to burn like crazy. That seemed silly, it’s water. Oh no. He started and said, “let me know if you need to take a break.” I said, “I think you lied to me–there’s no way that’s water! That’s boiling acid!” It wasn’t nice. By the time that was done, blood was once again streaming down my face. But I sure made his day (“oh man, I’m getting so much good stuff out of this! Wait until you look in the bucket and see what’s coming out of your head!” Blood. Paper towel. and more blood).
Lots of Lidocaine, and 6 stitches later, I was on my way. On the way home, Xander asked if we could hire a contractor to finish the shed, and when Justin and I laughed and said no, he asked that I at least wear a helmet while I finish the build.
It’s a Rubbermaid Shed, people! They shouldn’t be so dangerous!
Thank you Justin, for being the voice of reason, while I just kept yelling, “heads just bleed a lot! I’M FINE!!!”
Also, the salamander was still in the tub, on the trampoline. We said our goodbyes and set him free.
