Ironic death narrowly averted

I keep my LPs in the guest room. It was one of those marriage-preservation compromises; I don't mind the arrangement for the most part. Today I couldn't remember whether I had a record I needed for a piece I'm writing, so I went in, couldn't find it, and then spent a few minutes thumbing through the shelves. "This would be a good time to take out some records I don't want anymore," I thought.

I went through two shelves of about 400 records each and winnowed out three discs. Then I picked up the four I'd pulled out to play and started out of the room.

Looking at the "F"s, I paused.

"I wonder if I've got too many Fall LPs," I thought.

I don't totally remember what happened next, other than that a second later there was a tremendous crash as the shelving unit spontaneously broke in two, smashing against (and breaking) the guest-room door, flinging LPs and Eggs master tapes all over the floor.

That moment of reflection means there was only one casualty today: The Sub Pop 200 box set (just the box, so my Cat Butt collection is still first-rate).

A few hours later, I fear I may have missed out on the perfect way to die.