This will be quick, Pete. Think of it as ripping a bandage off. Oh, I know, you dont want to hear yet another story about my husband, but you have that gag in your mouth. You dont have much choice, Pete. I want to talk to you about the thirty percent that are sitting on the fence, Pete and why you should not throw any of our hard earned tax dollars trying to get them down from there. I know you like throwing are money about, but seriously, Pete it will buy you nothing to try and sway that lot. It was June, just over six years ago. We were finally settled in our new townhouse and were getting to know our way around places other than the shortest route to the hospital. It was almost 5:30, my husband was on our back patio hosing stuff. He asked me to turn off the water so I went up between our unit and the one next door to where the tap is, just near our front door. The next door neighbours were preparing their dinner, I heard them talking through their open kitchen window. As I was turning off the water I heard a blood curdling scream, an agonized scream. I shouted, no, no, no, no because I knew what must have happened in my brief absence. He fell, Pete, he fell and broke his hip. And there was blood, Pete. I had to leave him to run for a phone to call 911. I had to leave him to get a cloth to stop the bleeding, he was on blood thinners, Pete. I had to leave him to get a pillow and to put our dogs away before the ambulance arrived, and to move our vehicles to the street. Know what my neighbours did, Pete? They peered out from the slats in their blinds and watched us, Pete. As the ambulance attendants pulled my husband up the hill between the units, on a stretcher, my husband raised a hand and offered a wave to the slat peeping Toms. And that is why, Pete, I know beyond the shadow of any doubt, you will never get those suckers off the fence! It is also how I know you will never catch me sitting on one, Pete.
Posted on: Tue, 16 Sep 2014 01:12:01 +0000
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