All’s well that ends well

Sheila was in a blue funk. Her office recently had the lighting updated—the chief result being her radio no longer could pull in our local hog-rastlin’ music station.
What to do?
“Why don’t you take your satellite radio into work? You know I never listen to it at home during the day and you can bring it back home at night,” suggested hubby, Jack, always ready with a practical solution.
“Well, it will need another antenna installed because the metal roof at the office will kill its reception,” countered Sheila, ever one to envision potential problems.
“No problem! Maury will stick up an antenna for you. He’s an expert at that stuff and he hasn’t got anything else to do during the day,” countered Jack, again always ready to overcome obstacles.
Bright and early the next morning, right after dropping off the kids from the school bus and completing the mandatory two-hour coffee break at the Bakery, discussing the finer points of the project, Maury wandered across the street—his arms loaded with drills and assorted wires, clips, and connectors.
“We’ll just run a wire up along the wall to the ceiling, across the room, and down to that big window so the antenna can get a clear view of the satellite,” said Maury.
“Where’s your tools?” he wondered as he lined up his.
“Don’t have one. I can bring one in tomorrow,” Sheila apologized, wondering how she had missed that requirement.
“No problem. I’ll just stand on that chair and climb up on the filing cabinet,” said Maury.
“Boy, they’ve got high ceilings in here,” he observed, hitching up his pants and directing Jack to steady the chair as Sheila hurried out to the front to answer the phone.
Now school bus drivers are thoroughly schooled in safety first. Set the brakes and chock the wheels. But apparently this doesn’t apply to office chairs with casters.
Eyewitness reports are sketchy but apparently someplace between Maury’s first step up onto the seat and second step up onto the arm, Jack lost his grip on the chair and it sailed across the room.
Maury expertly maintained balance for about six inches, but then his “Cirque de Soleil” skills abandoned him and the force of gravity took over.
The “yowl,” followed by a building jarring “whump,” was described as a cross between a cat being stomped on and a sack of potatoes being thrown down the basement stairs.
Maury, from his position flat on his back, blinked a couple times before gingerly beginning to move his limbs—as surprised as the rest of the gathering that everything still worked.
Sheila, who just about had fainted in horror, hurried both Maury and Jack out for a soothing early lunch to calm her shattered nerves and Maury’s nearly-shattered skull.
In the meantime, Jennifer wandered in and put up the antenna in about two licks.
Her parting comment was, “If you want it done right, give the job to a woman.”
By later that afternoon, Sheila was her old mellow self as she listened to Conway Twitty croon out, “Lay me down and let me whisper pretty love words in your ear. . . .”
All’s well that ends well!

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