Crowded Upstairs

First of all, I have no words for this: http://www.chrisjordan.com/current_set2.php

Just click it, seriously, it's staggering.

Moving on, my day today was painful -- although not nearly as much so as it might have been. The angels were looking out for me this morning.

Simplex Grinnell is the name of the alarm company which owns and maintains the church's fire and burglar alarm system. Once a year, they send technicians out to bother me inspect our equipment and make sure that everything is working at top efficiency. Today was that day. This disrupts my workload to some extent, because I have to run around the building with them and let them into locked rooms and suchlike so they can test all the smoke detectors. I got most of my usual Friday work accomplished yesterday, which is really impressive when you consider that a) I was sick and b) I forgot they were coming.

Well, the final part of the inspection required them to have access to the church's "attic." This is the part of the building where the fire of 1979 took place; you can see scorch marks on the walls. It's the area over the sanctuary (main church) and is part of the building that very few of the congregation has ever seen. I'm in that little company. In order for them to access the smoke detectors in the 'attic,' I had to take them up to the balcony and unlock the door to the storage room. From there, one has to climb a set of rickety narrow steps that always make me think of Quasimodo, and then open an old heavy trapdoor in the ceiling. The technician, who has done our inspections many times before, went up alone but was having trouble finding the light switch. So I started up after him.

The trapdoor, which had nothing to hold it open, accidentally fell closed.

Had I gone one step higher, I would undoubtedly have had a massive concussion. As it was, I was showered with dust and dirt and soot, and I twisted rapidly around and downward to avoid any potential collision with the door. The poor technician yanked it open in horror; I think he thought I'd been killed. The door weighs fifty pounds, easily.

I avoided the major injury, but I was absolutely filthy until I got home to shower, and my back has been throbbing ever since. I think I turned too hard when I was ducking the door. I'll be all right after I've slept on it, but in the meantime, ouch.