We were on our way from the van park in New Norfolk to the airport in Hobart for my business trip to Brisbane.
We had decided to use the opportunity to take home the dehydrator.
It has a high cost in room compared to possible usage.
We needed to wrap the unit so spotting a Home Centre with a Harvey Norman store we thought they would have discarded cardboard boxes out the back.
Spotting a large dumpster we peered in to spot not only the perfect cardboard box but some bubble wrap.
“Get that bubble wrap”, prompted Kerrie on seeing this unexpected bonus near the bottom of the dumpster.
Following orders immediately and without question as usual I haul my 120 kg of bones and fat onto a small ledge at the side of the dumpster and, with a deftness normally reserved for someone half my age, pull my bulk up the rest of the way to the top of the dumpster.
As I leaned over I knew that I was at a ridiculous angle, with my head pointing to the bottom of the dumpster, bum level with the top and legs flaying about in mid air that must have appeared to the Harvey Norman workers who were now gathering to watch like the lower branches of a giant oak tree pointing out from a huge trunk.
For all this herculean effort I still couldn’t reach the prize of the bubble wrap in the bottom of the dumpster.
A rethink and another approach was required.
I somehow hauled my head back up by particularly violent thrashings of the legs so I was balancing on the side of the dumpster on my stomach like some macabre giant ballerina performing Swan Lake.
Unfortunately I couldn’t make the full descent back to the ledge because as the balance of my outstretched bulk began to lower my rib cage got caught on the dumpster edge.
There I was hanging like a giant dooner pegged to a clothes line.
Unable to lower myself backwards and knowing full well that to lower frontwards again would spear me head first into the bottom of the dumpster.
This would require removal by forklift from the Harvey Norman boys who were now appreciating the diversion from their hitherto dull lives.
The lightning bolts of pain now surging through my ribs as 120 kg was applied to the bones at the bottom must have dulled what happened next as I managed to somehow unpeg myself.
I then went into the ridiculous process of trying to make the onlookers think nothing was wrong and I fully intended all this to happen.
After getting the bubble wrap out with a fishing rod and packing the dehydrator I settled in to the realisation that the next week or two was going to be spent in agony pondering the fact that age doesn’t always make every decision you make a wise one.
Relaying the story to Kerrie of course bought her to her knees in tears of laughter completely disabling any ability she may have had for sympathy and causing her to conjure up imaginings of the humour value if I had made it all the way into the bin.