Lately, I have been enamored with shifts in perspective. You know how one minute you can see something one way then in a heartbeat, your perspective shifts.
This evening, with no actual time to accomplish this task, I finished up my price checking on refrigerators, tried to buy a fridge at a local shop (but pretty little lady in pink wasn't going to get a good price, so...). I zoomed over to Costco, found one on an incredibly good sale, got it, loaded it into the minivan (yes, it was one bizarre squeeze), and then called my men to unload it. Eee tore a muscle in his shoulder early in the game. Vee and Kee did most of the lifting / pulling.
At one point, we had the fridge carefully positioned sliding slowly down the stairs to the lower unit. Vee and Kee, my babies were on the under side of the refrigerator and Eee and I were on the upper side of the stairs, keeping it from falling on them. Aee was inside the upper level of the house and she screamed like something is horribly wrong, "MOM, COME QUICK!"
What do I do? Leave my two young men to be squashed by a 400 pound refrigerator? Or go help my youngest child who is crying for help?
I pushed the fridge down quickly, encouraging all the men to "hurry it up!" and with the fridge at a relatively non-deadly spot, I run full speed upstairs, "What's wrong? What's wrong? Are you ok?"
Aee, in tears says, "My paper ripped!'
I experience a brief whiplash, then spout, "Aee, your brothers are being squashed by a refrigerator. Come help!"
The paper is forgotten and we go help the straining men.
It was a great day. When I woke this morning I would have bet a million dollars that I would not use the phrase "squashed by a refrigerator" today.