I got a new shoe.
Remember that time I wrote about how my husband cleans? How he puts things into neat little stacks and LEAVES THE STACKS ON THE STAIRS?
At least he cleans, right?
WRONG.
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LEAVE PILES OF CRAP ON THE STAIRS.
Early one morning, before anyone was up, I was taking a load of laundry down the stairs. I saw the pile of crap and thought, I need to avoid that. Somehow, my body didn’t get the message. Instead of stepping over it, I stepped off the last three stairs and fell. Hard.
Laundry flew everywhere. My limbs flew everywhere. Little bubbles of spit flew everywhere as I cursed on the way down (how stupid is it when you know something’s happening but you can’t do anything to stop it?).
I heard something crack.
I wish the story ended here, but it doesn’t. See, I had my cell phone with me. So as my vision was getting black faster than I could dial numbers, I blindly called my husband. I needed so much help. He didn’t answer. I called again. No answer. Again. No answer. EIGHT TIMES AND NO ANSWER. I think I passed out for a minute or two.
I had to crawl back up the stairs with black spots dancing in my line of vision. Then I had to military crawl-it down the hallway and into our room and pull myself up onto the bed before he woke up enough to say, “What happened?” It’s a good thing women are tough, that’s all I can say. If this had happened to a man? Well. I’ll save that for another post.
I now have a broken foot.
So, fair warning. Don’t leave piles of crap on the stairs, or this might happen. And then your Messy Monday will be How the Hell Do I Take a Shower In This Thing?
