Monday, June 15, 2009

Susan Goes Boom


The guest bedroom where I'm staying is narrow. Right inside the folding door, there's a small rocking chair I had as a child. I love rocking chairs, but I also have a particular knack for bruising my ankles on the rockers. I've been tripping regularly over this one.

Last night, after everyone else was in bed, I headed to the bathroom. As I left the bedroom, I managed to put my foot through the leg of the rocking chair, which sent me crashing through the folding door -- tearing it partially off its hinges -- and into the hallway, where I knocked over one of the house's many litter boxes in the process of falling.

I landed with a very loud thump and immediately thought, Liz will think something happened to Mom. Mom came charging out of her bedroom (or creeping unusually quickly, anyway, since she has trouble walking) saw me on the floor, and said, "I thought that was a cat! I couldn't imagine what had happened!" Meanwhile, Liz had come racing up from downstairs to check on Mom.

I sat there laughing as both of them gaped at me. "I'm fine," I said, and I was, and I am this morning, too. I have a bruise on my ankle, but nothing's sore, swollen, or unusable. I have, however, moved the rocking chair into another room, the one with the broken computer.

Reminders of my stay here will include a broken computer and a damaged door. I hope I don't do anything worse before I leave!

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