Bad decisions and minor consequences

Big_boy_2 This picture was taken right before I decided to scoot up the ladder and help that guy over the wall.  I made a bad decision. The young man is a great Scout and his buddies could (probably) have done it without my help — I was there to observe and advise.  This young man also weighs 215 pounds.  It turns out that I am really supposed to be in a lighter weight class in the Scout-lifting competition.  My back is getting better, but it’s a slow process.  Still, it was a good day, and I think the memories of the boys’ success will outlive the soreness in my back.  For one thing, I took pictures of the boys, and I’m not taking a picture of my sore back.

Last week, I dumped my motorcycle and came away with only a couple of bruises and a sprained wrist and elbow. Everything but the elbow is hunky-dory already and I rode the motorcycle home (after a good Samaritan helped get it out of the ditch; my headlights were full of minnows and my saddlebag sleeps with the fishes).  A new headlamp and mirror (and a few hours of wrenching) will put me back in business.  I made a bad decision about how fast to enter a curve.

In both cases, I’ve learned a valuable lesson and feel lucky to be able to go about my business.  It’s hard to be very annoyed about any of the usual things when I think about how I might be in a hospital bed, or permanently disabled.  Instead, I’ll be pretty much okay in a few more days.  Then I can get back to complaining about the small stuff…  punctuated by giving thanks for being spared.

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