Sometimes it’s little old me. Just ask Carol — even I couldn’t find a good excuse for the sheetrock and insulation cascading onto her desk (and head). And then, when she saw my grey Skechers hanging over her head, I was definitely busted!

We were told we had “sweaty” aged air ducts which were dripping in the attic and staining our home office ceiling. After their replacement, I felt compelled to ensure that the leaks had, indeed, been mitigated. So, with Carol’s stern warning echoing that I wasn’t to actually go into the attic but just assess the situation from the attic ladder, I nevertheless decided an attic crawl was crucial.

And according to Carol (who forgets nothing I’ve ever uttered and usually word for word), my next words to her were, “As long as I walk on the wooden beams, it’ll be fine.”  Well, guess what, even my comparatively small size 8 feet were a bit too big to fit on the beams and down I went. Well, almost. Luckily, my elbows caught on the trusses, and I was able to slow my descent by about 5 seconds, giving Carol and her laptop time to escape being crushed as I landed feet first on the office floor.

I scraped up my leg pretty good, (at least I was wearing jeans and not shorts!) and my arm as well. But Carol silently tended my wounds and made me sit still for a while. Then when she was convinced I wasn’t going to keel over in shock, proceeded to blister my ears about textbook cases of old men and ladders!

Needless to say, Cirque du Soleil won’t be calling me anytime soon.