Moving has its challenges. Although we are past the first
week of March, it snowed last night. It was just a dusting, but it was enough
that we had had to shovel the driveway first thing this morning. The
temperature was hovering about zero Celsius. It was cool, but the sun was
struggling through a thin layer of cloud. There was a misty dampness in the
air.
I had been packing up items and doing some much needed
cleaning in the Coach House, which is my office and a sometimes pub. I was
carrying a vacuum cleaner back to the house, when one of the rear belt loops on
my jeans became entangled with a hook that supports one end of a long spring on
the outer screen door.
Try as I might, I could not manage to free myself. Awkwardly
I put down the items I had been carrying. Having both hands free, I tried some more
to get loose. Accomplishing that at the best of times would have been awkward,
since I could not see what I was attempting to do. I think my efforts only
secured myself more firmly.
I called out to John who, I assumed, was working away at
boxes in his office in the former drive shed not too far away. My voice fell on
deaf ears. Call as I might I could not be heard. I wondered if the women in the
house struggling to clean around the moving debris would hear. They did not.
All windows were blind to my suffering. Or perhaps they were watching my
dilemma with supressed giggles.
There was only one thing to do - attempt to take off my
pants. Now, with the hook capturing me at waist level, this was going to be a
challenge. But then, I am always up to a challenge.
I did not have a watch on but I knew a stranger was coming soon
to look at some crystal glassware that we were hoping to be rid of. So my
endeavour had to be fast and discrete. One leg out, and then I started to
teeter. The top of the other pant leg was caught far too high up and the range
of movement was far too restricted.
Once my balance had returned, I was now able to turn a
little further and see what the issue was. Yes, the loop was firmly encased in
a rusty hook. There was only the tiniest of space between it and the wooden
door frame. But eyes were the solution. I could now see what had to be done. With
some effort I was able to free myself, put my one leg back into the trousers
and whistle off nonchalantly to the house. The stranger’s car could be heard
mounting the drive.
