Didn’t mean to, really. She was standing there in the garage talking to me, and the 4-foot level was falling in her direction. In a split second, I had to make a decision: 1) don’t say anything and let it hit the BACK of her head, 2) dash to the other side of the garage, grab my hard hat, run back to her and slap it on her head before the level got there, or 3) do what any grown man would do to save his wife, shout, “WATCH!”
“WATCH” definitely made her turn her head towards me in response in just enough time for the aluminum albatross to “glance” off her left temple. SHE thinks I am a hero, because if I went with option #1, she would have a groove in the back of her head the size of the Panama Canal for who-knows-how-long. Had I gone with option #2, I may STILL be on my way back across the garage towards her. I’ll take that. See? Even when my wife gets hurt –and I am somehow involved—she thinks I am cool. That’s cool. Michelle, you’re cool…
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