Okay, 2024, let’s just say you and I haven’t been on the best of terms. The whole “life is short, seize the day” speeches are fine and dandy, but until recently, my biggest worries usually centreed around the life-altering choice between pizza and tacos for dinner. That all changed on February 6th, the day the kitchen tried to off me.
Picture this: a weekend of howling winds turned our kitchen doors into a rambunctious chorus of slams. But hey, at least I, being 100% blind, wasn’t the one playing human doorstop, right? Fast forward to Tuesday evening, the aroma of dinner fills the air, and visions of culinary triumph dance in my head.
Now, here’s where the “blind” thing becomes relevant. See, those troublesome kitchen doors have what I lovingly refer to as “crowbar arms.” These hulking metal contraptions are responsible for preventing their forceful, bone-rattling slams.
Little did I know, sometime during dinner prep, a crucial nut or bolt (hey, I’m nothing if not technical) decided to make a break for freedom.
Of course, being blind, I only found out about this delightful development after the fact. There was a mysterious clunk earlier, which I assumed was some hapless soul dropping a pot. Turns out, the sighted folks around me were being suspiciously unhelpful about clarifying. Harmless enough… or so I thought.
After we ate and we were done cleaning up, I approached the door, ready for my usual human door-wedge manoeuvre. But lo and behold, the mechanism no longer tried to close the door and not knowing what fell earlier, I just stood there at the door.
But fate, apparently, has a twisted sense of humour. Just as I moved through the door, fate decides to audition for the role of “Worst Villain Ever.” A split second after I exited the kitchen, now standing in the doorway, the crowbar – apparently outraged with its retirement – decides to make a dramatic grand finale.
CRASH! My heart nearly joins the nut/bolt on the floor. The once-mighty crowbar now lies defeated, directly in the spot I had just vacated. Honestly, as a blind person, the odds of a near-decapitation by rogue kitchen hardware have got to be worse than winning the lottery played backward, while juggling chainsaws.
So, here’s the takeaway, folks: life is weirder than we think, and complacency is a dangerous game. Go hug your loved ones (carefully, no need to replicate my near-death experience). It was a wake-up call, a reminder that even the most mundane moments can take an unexpected turn. So, live a little, folks! Maybe try a new recipe, take a bite of that extra slice of cake, pat your dog a little longer, adopt a three-legged cat – just do something before a rogue crowbar decides it’s your time to go.