It seemed as though the air was deflating out of one of my tires.
But, I wasn’t in my car. No, I was sitting in my recliner in my living room and I know it doesn’t have tires. Or, rockers that blow out or springs that deflate.
After a long day at work and a hot shower, I had settled down in my Hanes t-shirt and Georgia Bulldog shorts to relax with a 12 ounce bottle of Diet Coke. I never drink anything stronger.
I usually have to unwind for awhile when I end the day. Even as tired as I am and as insomnia afflicted as I am from sleep apnea, I still have to relax and chill out for a while until I go to bed.
I was thinking about sugar plums and herding my sheep up so I could count them.
Anyway, that’s when it happened.
I was scrolling through my Facebook feed to find out the happenings in the lives of my peeps and see who had what for supper, what their cat and dog did and which of my neighbors is deeply offended by something the Democrats or Republicans or a rank stranger said. It occurred to me that we spend a great deal of time wasting time. I was doing that very thing just then, but I was about to not be wasting time, because I was soon to be in a predicament.
That’s when I noticed it. The sinking I mean. I had the recliner in the recline position with the footrest out. My feet hurt because my size sasquatch shoes about have a hole wore in them.
I noticed that I was sinking down, down, down. I thought of Jay Sean and Lil Wayne, but I don’t know why, because I don’t know either of them personally. I just hear their song with that lyric on the radio.
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter. Actually, I just made that up. It didn’t actually happen. I haven’t “sprang” anywhere since about 1994. My body couldn’t take that.
But, there’s also a good reason it didn’t. The reason why is because I couldn’t have even if I had wanted to. I couldn’t actually get up. The tire was flat on my chair and I could not get out of the recliner. It held me hostage.
I beat it with tired feet to no avail. I rocked the chair back and to, but not on its rocker. I did it from sideto- side until it tumped over as we say in the south.
It wasn’t the only thing that tumped over. No, in the flailing and frantic attempt to escape my recliner, the Diet Coke in my Great Smoky Mountains tumbler, came tumping over after me and the recliner.
It spilled on my new floor in the living room next to my lamp table.
I started to unbuckle my seatbelt and hit the Onstar button, only to realize I was not in my car. I was in my recliner in my living room, tumped over in the floor with a refreshing beverage splashed over me.
I wondered if I would actually need the jaws of life to get me out of my recliner. How embarrassing would that be?
I didn’t. I determined I would rescue myself from the chair. I slid like a caterpillar down to the footrest and climbed off to the safety of the Diet Coke soaked floor.
I went to get some Bounty the quicker picker upper, but all it turned out to be was a soaker slower downer. I managed to get it all sopped up.
By the time all that excitement was over, I was even more tired and even more ready to go to bed.
I lay down and fixed my nest of pillows and sheets and settled in for the night.
I reached for my seatbelt and wandered if I had a spare tire in the pillows.
