Don't Fall, Sit.

Don’t fall, sit.

 

Yup this is the kind of advice you can expect while watching daytime television.  One of the reasons I avoid it like the black plague.  Then again, since the black plague tackled me earlier this week, daytime television has noogied my brain into submission.

 

Don’t fall, sit.

 

It sounded reasonable to me.  “OK…” so I sat in my chair.  That’s not what they were talking about.  They were issuing a warning for old people.  I guess one of the leading causes for elderly injury is falling. 

 

“Help!  I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”

 

Well, if they say it on TV, then it must be true.  In this they said it by showing me an old guy standing atop a flight of steps.  Just like that little barefoot girl needing a sandwich, this guy needed a handrail, and there was a film crew present who wouldn’t give it to him.  He was goin’ down just to make their point.

 

They’d paused his fall half-flip back though. I guess his frozen surprise was supposed to be humane.  They weren’t selling me abuse. They were selling me a chair-elevator up the stairs.  Those would be cool if I’d never seen Gremlins; movies are more real than TV.  I’ll just take the house without steps thank you.

 

“Where’s your bathroom?”

“Upstairs, Rob.”

“Mind if I just pee in the corner here?”

 

Yeah, with this cold I feel old and frail.  I want nothing to do with stairs. People’s Court was trying a case on stairs.  Well, it wasn’t the stairs that were on trial, but what was going on upstairs behind closed doors.

 

See, I guess this guy ran a B&D/S&M halfway house.  Well, it was more of an all the way house--all the way and then some.  Anyway, I guess the owner had a live in manager to his house of dungeons.  The live in and his leather lady wanted to spice things up, so they offered add an upstairs playroom.  The owner was down with that, but and gave the manager free rein to whip the place into shape, and he (the owner) would pay for the supplies.

 

I guess the best part about these funhouses is that everything you need is at your local Home Depot.  I had no idea. It’s not my thing.  I noticed the judge was quick to distance herself from it too, although I did notice she kept all the invoices.

 

See I guess there was some discrepancy in the swing room.  The manager thought he was owed more money for the 1 way mirror or something.  I was never clear what was going on there. It was clear somebody wanted money, and somebody else didn’t want to pay it. 

 

OH!  It’s a divorce!

Next case.  I know how this works.

 

Don’t fall, sit.

 

Is that relationship advice too?  I mean I’ve heard about the problems that come to people who fall “head over heels.”  They come-to two years later with a mortgage and a baby and think they’re somebody else.  It happened on Gilligan’s Island too. Yeah, Gilligan was hit by a coconut.  He thought he was Jan Brady and kept walking around going, “Marsha, Marsha, Marsha,” grabbing his own coconuts.  Missed that episode?  It was on yesterday.

 

What if we tried to keep from falling?  What if we sat and considered who’s wood chipper we were falling into?  The wood chipper of love is a brutal thing.  And unfortunately most of us fall in love early, when the reasoning portion of our brain isn’t fully developed.  It’s still soft, mushy and open to suggestion.

 

Case and point: according to a reputable TV news magazine, Drew Peterson is engaged.  Now for those of you who don’t know about Drew and his wood chipper of love, here’s the scoop o’ sawdust.  Drew’s third wife was murdered in her bathtub, his fourth wife disappeared like a donut in a kindergarten class, and while he’s busy searching with OJ to find the source of his misfortune, Drew’s gotten engaged to a fifth. 

 

Yes, she’s 23 and believes he’s misunderstood and that this time it will be different.   I’ve heard that one before from several women who’ve dated married men.  They fall and nobody’s there to catch them. Least of all, the guy they expect to be there.

 

Maybe we all need to sit and think for a bit.  I mean really, why fall? I’m not saying I don’t believe in love.  I do.  I believe in lasting love, soulmates, Santa Claus and the tooth fairy. I just think that maybe we should consider how far we’re falling.  When you fall into somebody’s arms they’re supposed to catch you.  Are you sure they will?  It’s better to know before you hit the pavement of divorce.  Sure a broken spine is a romantic gesture, but so is sitting and talking while holding hands.

 

Falling is by far the fastest way to get from to the bottom of the love stairs, but me, I’m old, I’m bruised, and I’m more fragile.  I’ll sit. I’ll move slowly, and I’ll shake my cane when I’m cranky, thank you.  That’s my universal symbol for “get off my lawn.” 

 

And that’s how the right woman will know I’m sitting for her. She’ll shake her cane back at me and we’ll call it foreplay.  What’s more we won’t need a dungeon and a 1 way mirror to do it. We’ll just sit in the swing and take what comes next slowly.

 

Don’t fall, sit.

 

Yeah, I think I can do that.