Nail Proof

Twice a year Keene has Trash Pick Up Day. This isn't the normal once a week gig where they empty the trash cans. This is the Bring Whatever Junk You Have to the Curb and We Will Dispose of It day.

Out behind our house is a large tin building that could be used for storage. We recently figured out that this tin building is actually the trailer to a semi minus the wheels and minus a back door. Then someone built a front to it, added some electricity, and there you go--a storage shed. Roy hates the front addition and intends to tear it down someday because it looks a bit tacky. But there was a problem with the trailer part of the shed, and that problem is this:

It was stockpiled with JUNK. And I do mean junk. It was just left there by one of the two previous owners--no idea who, and it really doesn't matter--but it was more than Roy could stand. All of that junk weighed on him. And so, when he heard about this Bring Whatever Junk You Have...day, he determined that he would use it to his gain and get rid of it all.

Which sounds great.

However, Roy has been working from morning 'til night with his job--literally. He leaves by 5:20 every morning and has not been getting home before 8:00. Once he is trained, life will slow down a bit but in the meantime, he is a busy boy. And so, by the time Roy pulled in Monday night (and the trash pick up was Tuesday), it was pitch black outside.

As we live outside of town, we have no street lights to guide the way; it's pure country out here. But of course, Roy was not deterred and so the three of us (Jace included) with flashlight in hand gingerly walked out to that tin building and scoped out the massive amounts of junk inside. And then we got to work.

While Roy worked the trailer, Jace and I stood outside with large black trash bags and stuffed what Roy threw out into the bags. It was hard work and it was disgusting. We all kept one eye open for a slithering rattlesnake or a scurrying mouse but, sigh of relief, it never happened. I'm not sure why as the inside of that trailer was a haven for such critters.

Anyway, Roy worked at lightning speeds and Jace and I struggled to keep up with him; and then it happened. Roy let out a yell and suddenly stopped, pulling up his foot.

"A nail just went through my foot," he said.

"You're kidding me," I replied, panicking a bit.

"I'm not kidding. I need your help."

And so, with Jace on one side and me on the other, we managed to help Roy hobble to his workshop where he sat down on a bucket and held up his work boot for me to inspect.

Sure enough.

I could see the head of a nail securely fastened to the bottom of his boot.

It was evident that Roy was managing the pain as he breathed purposefully in through his nose, out through his mouth, in a determined, repetitive fashion.

He instructed me where to find the pliers and then, after I brought them to him, he inched out the nail just a wee bit--enough to be able to grab it with the pliers.

"On my count, pull it out," he said. "Pull it straight out."

For the record? I am an English major. I like books, writing, candles, and sunsets.

I do not like blood, wounds, or nails in feet. Medical stuff makes me nauseous. One time, Roy had a procedure done on his back and, being the supportive wife that I am, I hung in the room while the doctor cut on Roy's back.

And I went down.

I sat down in time so that my head didn't flop on the floor...but nonetheless...it sent me over the edge.

If you are having a medical emergency, I am not your girl.

And so, this nail in Roy's foot? It took everything in my being to stay in that shop, pliers in my hand, reaching for the nail, grabbing it, and then pulling. Straight out.

I would have preferred running straight out.

But I didn't.

I am the hero in this story.

I got the nail out, leaving a hole in Roy's foot. And we have no idea the last time he had a tetanus shot.

Great.

But no matter.

Because Roy is Roy? We went back out to that tin building and Roy went back to work. I yelled, and I complained, and I grumbled about the stupidity of it all as I was convinced Roy would get another nail in his foot...but he was determined. 35 very large black trash bags later, the tin building was empty and we threw as many of those bags into the little red pickup--and several on top of it--as was physically possible and drove them to the front of the house where we dumped them by the curb...

And then repeat.

Yesterday Roy went to work and mid-afternoon he sent me a text telling me how yet another nail plunged through his other boot while he was at work. This one, however, missed his foot.

Clearly Roy needs new boots.

I sent a text to Dr. Bob, our Doctor friend from North Carolina, asking for his thoughts on the matter, and he said, "Woman, get your husband a tetanus shot! Lockjaw might be good for you but not for him!"

Yeah. He's nice like that.

And so, after a bit of research, I learned that CVS provides immunizations, including tetanus shots, and so on the way home from work, Roy stopped by.

Meanwhile...

Roy's fellow inspectors told him about some boots that are nail-proof. I think we'll check those out.