ceiling Jodi iz wahchin the dope laf at her misforchuns
Well, I’m really glad you’re not hurt, Jodi. But now I have to tell the story of The Ass Hole. I wasn’t a witness to it, but I’m sure my friend won’t mind. It’s one of my favorite stories. Picture 3 college aged guys home in their shared apartment. We will call them Friend, Roommate, and Boyfriend (my future husband, but shortly before we met).
Roommate is talking on the phone in the hallway. Boyfriend is in his bedroom. Friend is in the living room.
Friend walks from the living room down the hall, past Roommate. Being a boy, he decides to punch Roommate on the arm really hard and run away. Roommate ends his phone call and chases Friend down the hall. Friend ducks into Boyfriend’s room, and is followed by Roommate.
Now, Friend is normally quiet and calm, and really not the person you would expect this from. He’s bookish. He doesn’t do sports. He’s also much smaller than Roommate. But maybe testosterone and inter-roommate tensions flared that day. We’ll never know. But, seeing himself cornered, Friend puts his head down and shoulders out, yells with all his tiny heart, and does a sudden running tackle on Roommate. This knocks the wind out of Roommate, carries him two feet, and leaves him stuck ass-first into the drywall.
In the carnage, Roommate is laughing and Friend is panting and laughing in shock. Boyfriend watches the whole thing and says “Oaawh! Guys! WHY in MY room?!”
(They repaired it and painted before they moved out and the landlords were none the wiser.)
Gawd, I needed that, Jodi! I was feeling like a total dumbass because I just realized last night that I had left my crock pot on for three freaking days! I’m lucky I didn’t burn the whole building down.
I thought of you today, Jodi, when a coworker related to me that there is now a hole in her family room ceiling not unlike yours. Workmen had been putting on a 2nd story addition. They didn’t tarp it properly and a large portion of her house was rain damaged when we had a storm this week. To make matters worse, one of the workmen fell through the ceiling today. Oh, he didn’t fall all the way through. He was stopped by a joist. Right between the legs.
So at least you’re not a professional Dumb-ass.
In our house in SC, Ivylad was up in our attic, and he fell through the ceiling ass-first.
Fortunately, the garage door was open, so he landed on the garage door just a few inches down.
He and his Navy pal used my good wooden salad bowl to mix up whatever it was they needed to mix up to fix the hole. I haven’t quite forgiven him for that.
So I am not the only one! That lessens the shame. Marginally.
Just updating, if anyone cares:
The price to fix the water damage in the hall (two small sheetrock patches, plus treating the stains and then priming the ceiling with Kilz) AND fixing the Glaring Evidence of Dumbassery (a/k/a the hole) (BIG honkin’ sheetrock replacement plus priming the ceiling with Kilz) = $450. That sounds pretty reasonable to me, since I value things by thinking, “would I pay you that amount of money to avoid having to fuck with it myself?” and in this case the answer is YES. The irony, if there is one, is that the guy told me he probably wouldn’t have been willing to come fix the hall alone because it would be too small a job to be worth his while. Good thing I broke the ceiling, huh?? :rolleyes:
Muffin, you really must be practical. What that room will need is some good overhead lighting, after all… 
I will go you one better, sort of. I went through my FLOOR.
It was the old bathroom, lined with nasty cream and peach tile from the Korean war era. I was using a (small) sledge hammer to break up the tile and then remove it. I was wearing lil white Keds (like a fool). The sledgehammer went down and through the floor joists, followed by my left foot up to the ankle (I caught myself on the side of the tub). Quite a mess in the basement. Handyman came to finish the job and just shook his head at me (he used to me).
I don’t use sledge hammers, anymore. Then there was the time I couldn’t get the fire lit (outside)–I only used a splash of gasoline… (never do that).
Then again, it was the cabinet installer who used our refrigerator as a fulcrum to wedge out one of the old cabinets–we still have the dent in the top corner of the fridge.
Home improvement sure is interesting.
Washing cooking pots along with drink glasses is probably not the best idea, sadly I have done this more than once. Can we say massive bleeding boys and girls?
Hell, Jodi, I did the same damn thing myself once- when I was NINE! That wasn’t nearly as embarrassing as a couple of years ago when I hit a grease slick in front of the New York Fries and my 200lb ass did the splits in the middle of the food court. Hello sciatica!
Thats a pretty good price for all of it. I would hold off on doing it until you get the roof fixed. See, some good came of your accident. Thinking about it, it wasn’t that you were being a dumbass. Being a dumbass would be climbing up on the roof in a thunderstorm to fix your antenna or to lay the tarp there. You just made a natural mistake.
I haven’t fallen through a floor or ceiling (yet), but the day our dog was to be spayed, I was to drop her off at the animal hospital by my workplace. I left early, a little anxious. I put the dog in the car, put my keys and purse on the floor in front of the passenger seat, and then, because she’s so cute, locked the passenger door. Hey, someone could open the door in traffic and grab her, right? I walked around to get into the driver’s seat.
Yes. There, I could plainly see, my keys and my purse. We’d ditched our home phone, so my cel phone was safely locked in the car. The keys were locked in the car.
The DOG was locked in the car.
There was a spare house key hidden in the shed, so I could get back in the house. Booted up computer, and used web to send text message to my husband’s phone.
He was not happy with having to make a 30 minute or so drive back to open up my car.
After that, I never, ever leave the house without a spare car key tucked in my bra. Even home alone, not planning on going anywhere, enjoying my Saturday–that key is tucked in my bra.
It’s my souvenir when I was briefly, Queen of the Dumb-asses.