So I did what any insane person would do: stomped around swearing and cussing and feeling slightly woozy, getting that metallic taste in the mouth, blinking away the stars, pressing my hand on the bump rising out of my hairline and making grinding noises in my throat.
And I thought, I am very much going to blog about this.
Later I asked my ol' man if we could possibly take that old grain chute away, since it's been about 25 years since we were feeding pigs in this barn. I showed him the bump on my forehead and everything. He figures we can just shove it up inside the grain bin and call it a day.
Oh, also, this is the second time in less than two weeks that I've whacked my head on this thing. If I recall correctly, the steps were over a foot or so when I was a kid.
Smell ya later, folks.