The top of the controller for my chair sits probably 36 inches off the ground. The sink at work is a roll-under, and the bottom edge is about 35.5 inches. I can get under to wash my hands fine, but normally my chair cannot go all the way under the sink.
All bets are off when I yawn, though.
Like all the other response reactions -- a sneeze, a cough -- yawning is trouble for me. It is, perhaps the height of idiocy (at least for tonight and yes, I am talking to you, God) ... the height of idiocy that these common everyday reactions involve risks of life and death for me.
Tonight, it was just my chair. I yawned, and remember thinking: "It's all right; there's nowhere to go." You see, I knew already that yawning is dangerous. My arms seem to move on their own and they move very sharply. My knees arch up of their own volition.
There was nowhere to go, I guess, except for straight under the sink. My hand just stretched out and "floored" the controller. I heard several cracks (to the chair, not the sink), and then I was stuck under the sink. Once you get past the 35.5-inch bottom, the sink opens up underneath.
After I banished nightmare images of firefighters having to cut away the sink to get me out, I worked myself out.
My chair remains in one piece, quite damaged, though. I am quite damaged, too.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
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