Not our chair. Don't know her! |
Today I decided to hang the chair from a tree in our front yard.
The 16' ladder wasn't tall enough, so I dragged up the big one. It is so long that the bottom end has to be propped up against something to keep it from kicking out when I try to "walk it up". The "something" was a tree. It kicked out, anyway, and clanked back down to earth.
Just as I was about to persist, I saw Tom come out of his house, across the street. "Oh, God!", I thought. "He heard the ladder, felt the earth shake, and looked out the window, and now he is going to help me! I am going to kill Tom, and even if it is accidental, which it surely will be, they will put me in jail, and there won't be anyone to change the cat litter!"
I pretended not to see Tom, and slipped into the garage, as if I had a reason to.
Tom just came out to mail a letter.
Mari came out of the house later, and watched me, up the ladder, rig a chain to a tree branch. "How old are you?", she asked.
"Seveny-nine," I said, "but Tom is older. "Tom could have been hurt!"
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