That time I fell through the attic

Oh yeah, about that time I fell through the attic.

It's sort of amusing and makes me look like an idiot, so I thought I'd share it with the world!

This happened two years ago I think? As I've mentioned, I'm an avid reader and there isn't enough shelf space for all my books in the house, so we keep several boxes of books in the attic above our garage. I always wait until Betsy's out of the house to do risky things because I know she'll just say, "You know you'll just fall and hurt yourself, dummy!!!" So one morning, while my wife was at work, I decided to go up in the attic to find some books.

It was summertime. I went up there early so it wouldn't get too hot, but the temperature was already rising rapidly in the dimly lit, confined space. Like many attics, ours has an area running down the middle (where the roof peaks to its highest point) that has a plywood floor we use for storage. Step off the wooden floor, however, and you find yourself trying to balance on 2 by 6 inch joists with nothing between them but a flimsy layer of sheetrock.

The books were far from both the entry to the attic and the only light source, so I was trying to juggle a flashlight while slinging boxes around. Sweat was already beginning to drip off my nose as I struggled to find the right books as quickly as possible. After a lengthy amount of time partially bent over and perspiring, I was so intent on looking at the next box that I failed to look where I placed my foot and brought it down on sheetrock.

Abruptly, I started to drop through the floor to the garage below. Using my cat-like reflexes, I was able to grab on to one of the joists on my way down. Or maybe I was just flailing wildly in my panic and got lucky--we'll never know. Regardless, I managed to arrest my fall and dangled from the joist with nothing but a five foot drop below me.

It took roughly 500 man-hours to create this image

A decade ago, this would have been no big deal. I could've just brought my other hand up to grab the joist and gently dropped down to the floor below. In this case, though, my left hand wasn't working and I wasn't sure about my ability to land without hurting myself since my left leg is partially paralyzed and it can't absorb the impact from falling like it used to.

There was another, much more pressing, consideration. In the picture, can you see the cable dangling down from the hole? That is part of the cable that runs from our TV, back into the wall, up through the attic, and out on the roof to our antenna because we're too cheap to buy cable. That cable was between my legs.

Here's what was running through my head (yes, I hanged there from the ceiling for quite a while): just how strong was that cable? Because if it was a strong cable, I could let go of the joist, then painfully take that tight wire straight to the balls, then perhaps it would flip me over, and I would land on my head, and Betsy would come home to find her husband's brains spattered on the floor.

So, there I was. Dangling from the ceiling like that kitten on the "Hang in There" poster. I kept trying, unsuccessfully, to swing one leg over the wire. Also the garage door was open. I hoped that someone would pass by, walking their dog on the street. Then I could yell at them to come up and help me down. But my neighborhood picked that moment to be devoid of life.

"Why don't you try 'hanging in there,' asshole!!"

Nobody tells you what happens when that cat can't hold on any longer. Where's that demotivational poster?

I was fighting a losing battle. My pitiful cries for help went unanswered. My right side has the strength of ten men, but even my herculean muscles begin to flag over time. I finally figured oh, screw it, kissed my private parts goodbye, and let go of the joist.

As you can tell from the dangling cable--and the fact that I'm alive and writing this post--it snapped as soon as I put weight on it. I came down fairly hard and banged my head on the car hard enough to put a dent in it, but otherwise I was fine. No pain to the groin area!!! 

There's still a chalk outline on the ground where my body fell

After hitting the ground, I realized I'd dropped my flashlight and it was still up there where I fell through. So, like any moron, I went right back up the ladder to retrieve the light (didn't fall that time though...SUCCESS!!). I didn't say anything to Betsy until she happened to call later that afternoon:

Betsy: "Hey, babe, I'm on my way home. I think I'm going to stop by Target. Do you need anything?"

Brian: "No, I'm good...well I might have a medication ready. Could you stop by the pharmacy?"

Betsy: "Sure. I'll see you in a bit! Love you!"

Brian: "Love you! Oh, I fell through the attic so don't freak out when you see the hole in the garage."

Betsy: "WHAT?!?!?!?!?"

Brian: "See you later!"

Betsy: "YOU SON OF A-"

*click*