There’s a rule in life (or should be): Never die because of a backyard fountain.
First off, it’s embarrassing. Second, it’s one of three reasons that life insurance won’t payout. (The other two are death by pet piranha and swallowing too much toothpaste.)
Truth is, it didn’t technically involve the fountain, and I didn’t almost die. But could have, I suppose. I wasn’t installing it. It’s been in place for over a year. I was snipping vines and weeds with a pair of garden clippers. Innocent. Harmless. Rummaging around in a line of ornamental grasses. Not giving a care in the world to where I was snip-snip-snipping.
Because why would I? They’re plants. They haven’t unionized. They’re like kittens.
Snip-snip-BZZZAP!
That’s when the flash of yellow and blue flame appeared, right out of the long, green leaves. It seemed to jump at me – angry about something. Maybe I had disturbed its slumber with my trimming. Wait a minute … why were my plants exploding in front of my eyes? Maybe they had gone through with the union after all?!?
It’s about this point that things became clear, the shock wore off and I came to my senses about what was really going on here: My house must have been built over the top of a volcano! Or an evil burial ground.
Or maybe I just forgot the golden rule of electrical work: Never run an exposed power cord in any area where you might one day nick it with a pair of garden clippers.
BZZZAP!
Why is it we do-it-yourselfers think that reading the warnings on instructions is all that’s required? That’s what I do … I read all of the warnings. I say to myself things like: “Well, that’s certainly good to know” or “I will take that into advisement as it sure sounds like a horrible death.”
And that’s it. I have been advised. I have taken it “into” advisement. And then I proceed to do exactly what it tells me not to do. All because I think this obligatory reading has given me immunity from these events actually taking place. Knowing IS half the battle …
As I clearly recall when I installed the fountain, the instructions said the electrical cord should not be installed in any kind of shrubbery or ornamental grasses where the world’s dumbest dummy might snip it, maybe thinking he’s saving his family from a venomous snake.
I thought to myself, “Well, that’s good to know. I get why they wrote that. The world is sure full of dumb people. Good thing I have advanced degrees and know better. So, why don’t I just tuck this little cord right behind these ornamental grasses …”
“I think I almost died!” I told my family as I walked into the house. They were quite surprised, and then quite angry.
“WHAT!?!” my wife demanded. “Why didn’t you tell us you were outside doing electrical work?”
“Well, I didn’t actually know until the earth exploded in my face,” I said. “Plus, I read all the safety instructions on the fountain. No mention of telling your wife before electrocuting yourself with garden shears.”