Real Life On Hold - these are the adventures of California native Travis Emmel, as he takes time off from the rat race to travel and see the world.

Journal Entries

Abusive Furnishings

Saturday, February 02, 2008

Dinner time has arrived and I'm starting to stir-fry a little chickity China the Chinese chicken chow mein. I've got the pan nice and hot and, once the oil warms up, I throw in the meat and some veggies. Forgetting to turn on the exhaust fan over the stove was a poor move as the house quickly fills with enough smoke to set off not one, but two smoke detectors. The ensuing screeching of the alarms is enough to make my ears bleed as I try to shut everything on the stove down and take care of this auditory nuisance.


I close the door to my bedroom to muffle smoke detector #1 and hop up on the couch in the living room to get to work on detector #2. I rip the battery out as though it were the device's heart, hoping to kill its wailing. No luck. The alarm continues to pound its high-pitched cry against my eardrums. Ignoring my life of impending deafness, I start to alternately press the two buttons on the face of the detector in hopes of shutting it up with little success. Finally, I press and hold the "hush" button and ten seconds or so later the only ringing is in my ears.


I'm able to finish cooking and enjoy my dinner, save for the water torture-esque, incremental beeping coming from the detector as it begs to have its heart replaced. When the last of my food has been consumed, I submit to the incessant nagging. Again, I step up onto the couch, except this time placing my weight on the side arm as opposed to the back of the couch. Without warning, the sectional lives up to its namesake and the portion I am on collapses out from under me, pillows fly in all directions and I come crashing down on top of the entire piece.


My left arm is shocked with simultaneous pain and numbness as my brain tries to process what happened. "Ugh, I'm gonna need a minute," I exhale to a nonexistent audience, as I stumble to the bathroom to assess personal damages. It takes a while for the mirror to come into focus as all I can see are stars floating around the room. Eventually, I pull it together enough to visually inspect my arm and what I see is not pretty. Evidently, I came down so hard and fast onto the sofa that I managed the equivalent of a huge carpet burn along the entire length of my forearm; the top layer of skin looks as though it went across a cheese grater giving me the macroderm abrasion from hell. Add in the two bruises on either end and it's safe to say that the team of sofa and smoke detector won this round.

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