Hands on, not hands in

I didn’t post yesterday because the main story is that I assumed when I turned the mower blades off and then climbed off the mower and then spent time adjusting my shorts and stretching that the mower blades would have stopped. Fortunately for moi, they had almost stopped. Otherwise, I would have lost some fingertips instead of just getting a good WHACK that left me with a bone bruise and cut and a fingernail bed that is purple.

It’s not like I stuck my hand right under the mower; no, I was picking at the blob of grass that had blocked the chute, and then I picked a little bit farther and the thing I mentioned earlier happened – the WHACK.  I think that the impressions of thought that crossed my mind in a split second were “Oh No” and then “Oh, Thank God” as I snatched my hand out whole. After that I thought a lot about my parents and my dad especially and his concern for my safety and not being foolish. I think had he still been alive, I would have gotten a totally frustrated and never before performed BIG WHACK UP THE SIDE OF THE HEAD.

I was very lucky, and very stupid, but I’m going to be really thankful for the lucky. In fact, I may even consider this particular “lucky” as a noun. Yes, this was  a main Lucky for me. It doesn’t really hurt at all unless I put pressure on it, and I try not to do that.