Thursday, February 21, 2008

My Dark Past: The Eiruv

When I was growing up (shut up. It wasn't funny when you asked, "was?"), I would always play with my backdoor neighbor, Brian. He is not Jewish. He had this awesomely big back yard, where we would play soccer, baseball, miniature golfing or hide-shoe-find (only the best game ever invented).
So as I became more frum (I don't think frummer is grammatically correct in the Yinglish language), I stopped playing with him on Shabbos.
Until we came up with this great idea.
Not knowing that you are not allowed to make an eiruv on Shabbos, or any of the halachos at all, for that matter, we built an eiruv around his field for us to be able to play.
We found some yarn to use and wrapped it around different trees. It was red (this will play a role later in the story).
So you might think that the best height to put the yarn up would be at eye-level, to make sure people see it.
Wrong. Very Wrong.
I ran right into it, forgetting it was there, and I got a painfully stinging mark going across my face, over my eyes, that didn't go away for a while. My eyes stung from the yarn going into them. Wow, did it burn.
So I hoped you learned your lesson from my story. I'm not exactly sure myself of what it is, but I'm sure there is one. You're smart, you'll think of one.