I've had it. My house is about to explode with "stuff". Tons of it. Embarrassing amounts of it. We have so much stuff that I don't know how our attic floor hasn't fallen through. Enough is enough! I've made it my mission to get rid of tons of it. I don't care if it is given away, sold, or trashed...I just want it gone! I'm a woman on a mission!!
So, brilliant me decided to head up into the attic last night to begin the process. I was so excited about getting started that I even decided to forgo eating supper. That's dedication! I pulled the attic door down and because Jackson loves to climb into the attic, and since that could perhaps be slightly dangerous, I had Jeremy raise just the lower portion of the attic ladder up so Jackson couldn't reach it. So effectively, I was trapped in the attic (at Jeremy's mercy) although I could still see down the stairs. Looking back I see how weird it is that I willingly allowed myself to become trapped in the attic, but it wasn't like the attic door was completely closed. Because I couldn't be interrupted, I was a mad woman getting rid of stuff. I was on fire! I would make piles (trash, keep, or give away to family, friends, or church) and then pass them down the stairs to Jeremy and then he would take them out to the back porch for the time being. Everything was going great, and I was really working my way through the attic.
I came across a box lid full of small, square glass vases. I quickly decided to put them in the pile to give away and had Jeremy carry them out to the back porch. Because it was raining, Jeremy had been putting our "go through with family pile" in Jackson's playhouse on the back porch. When Jeremy tried to fit this box lid full of glass vases through the playhouse door, it wouldn't fit and the vases tipped and started falling. Jeremy tried his best to catch the vases before they fell and basically grabbed one of them as soon as it broke on the back porch.
Oh mercy...the blood.
Keep in mind that I'm stuck in the attic. As in, there is no way for me to get out without Jeremy lowering the ladder down for me. From the attic I hear the back door opening, and then immediately hear breaking glass. the back door opening again, and Jeremy call out, "Um. Amy...I need some help. I'm bleeding pretty bad."
I'm still stuck in the attic.
Finally Jeremy appears and pulls the attic ladder all the way down, and it is just chaos. Jeremy is bleeding, Jackson is crying because Daddy is hurt, and I'm just running around crazy trying to find a red hand towel to put pressure on the cut to get it to stop bleeding. Jeremy is running his left thumb under the faucet and every time he pulls it out it is just gushing blood. Usually I don't get sick at the sight of blood, but this was bleeding so much that I started gagging. The phrase "bleeding like a stuck hog" comes to mind.
Now we have Jeremy bleeding, Jackson crying, and me gagging.
Finally we get it together and just as I'm getting us ready to go take Jeremy for stitches, we get the bleeding under control and Jeremy decides that he can drive himself to Pri-Med. 2 hours, 6 shots of lidocaine directly into his thumb, and 2 stitches later, he gets back home almost in one piece.
So there you have it: Cleaning has now been proven to be dangerous for your health. Jeremy has the stitches to prove it...