Bear Trap

Repost from the O.G. Bloggity Blog

Have you ever found yourself trying to shove your arm into a painfully small space? The other day I dropped my phone behind my bed. I knew it would be an uncomfortable and challenging rescue mission, so I left it there. A shelving unit around my bed (perhaps my best impulse buy… IT HAS A CUP HOLDER!) would make the phone rescue particularly difficult. Here is a crappy drawing of the arrangement of my bed and surrounding furniture:

About an hour or so passed when my roommate asked if I would accompany her to Chic-Fil-A. For some reason an outing to Chic-Fil-A requires the presence of my cell phone. My options for reclaiming my phone from the dark depths of under my bed were as follows:

A) Slide my hand between the bed and one of the bars that supports the over-the-bed shelving.

B) Remove the drawers from under my bed and crawl under it.

Neither of these options were appealing. My extreme laziness told me that even though sticking my hand between the bed and shelving unit would be more painful, it would take less time and effort. Option A it is.

Reaching my phone was easier than expected.

Getting the hand/phone combo out was quite another story. With the phone, my hand was much too large. Without the phone, my hand was just large enough that it wouldn’t fit back through the space. I don’t think my hand grew while it was down there, but I could be wrong. After my feeble attempts to get my hand out of the under-the-bed bear trap, I admited defeat and even though it was mildly embarrassing, I desperately needed assistance.

It was like the time in kindergarten when you stuck your legs through the stair banister bars and were happily swinging your legs about until you realized your knees had grown while you were doing your leg swinging making it impossible to get them out and then you had to call for help because if you didn't you would waste away stuck on those steps, so your mom had to use lotion and butter to free your legs from their hand railing prison and it left your knees smelling like Johnson & Johnson and disappointment.

After taking her sweet time instead of rushing to my aid, Miyuki (pronounced me-you-key) was not of any assistance. When she walked in to my room she was probably not expecting to see me in such distress, but I am positive that laughing instead of helping was not the most effective reaction. Eventually she was able to use her super-human, manly strength to hold the leg of the shelving unit away from the bed long enough for me to slip my hand (complete with cell phone) out of harms way.

  

Once I had my Chic-Fil-A my hand didn’t hurt anymore.