One dark night I went down when I snoozed a few moments at 3 am on the toilet. I’ve never done that before, fallen asleep on the toilet. I do take good sleepy time drugs. I have no idea how long I was there, so I didn't realize my legs were numb until I attempted to stand and then I crumbled to the floor like a wet towel. I woke up enough to pull my head back so I gently positioned it on the wall instead of smacking it there. In this small room, between the porcelain god, the tub, a close wall and a strategically placed bathroom scale that gave me a small bruise on my knee I contorted about until I could wake my legs and then walk back to bed an immediately fell back to sleep. Like I said. Good drugs. Nothing was hurt but my pride, but only for a moment as I later found the whole experience quite comical.
It was just a week later, eight days actually but who is
really counting here? There was a
kitchen rug episode in which a rug that had existed, or at least an ancestor
had been there, more than 20 years, unexpectedly became a villain. While in a rush to put a bowl in the sink and
go about my business I tripped andI flew head first like a bat out of hell for
the lower cupboards in front of the sink.
I pulled back my head in time that it didn’t hit a thing so I only fell
on that sinister, now folded fake piece of carpeting. But the bowl made it safely into the sink
just fine, flying like a duck on the wing.
And the 4” by 8” rug was pulled from the kitchen immediately after Craig
helped me up. There’s nothing like a man
hearing a crash in the next room rushing to save the day! My hero!
That must have been the end of last year as D-I-L Alisha bought me a
cushy padded mat that sticks to the floor with tapered edges, so I’m good in
the kitchen now. It’s more comfy to
dance on while I’m at the sink, too.
The next time I fell was while I was painting a border on
the dining room walls just after enlarging the room 2 feet. Yes, 2 feet.
Craig’s mom had a table that was huge, but still Craig insisted it go in
our miniscule dining room because he grew up with it. And it is a fine table. Just enormous.
Without the 2 leaves. We couldn’t
back up to get out of our chairs as they were already pressed against the wall! So one day I casually said (in a I’m-kidding-but-no-not-really-voice)
that when we move my studio to the basement and before Son Shawn expands his space into
the room adjacent to the dining area we should move this wall 2 feet and
enlarge the dining room. He loves me
very much and after measuring and calculating and tapping on walls as all Tim
the Tool Man men do, he said that he could.
I knew he absolutely could as I believe my man can do anything, like
jack up our house 4 feet and build a basement, where my said studio was promised,
and turned out to be just awesome. That’s another story for another time.
Well, impatient Craig started removing the wall before I was
even packed to move the studio and he started asking me move my things so he
could work. Anywhoo, Craig, he likes to
leave his tools in the room until it’s done, which meant moving the two tables
(Yes two. One was his grandmothers that
we used before his mother’s that arrived 5 years ago and he said Nanny’s table
was “too good for the barn or the basement” and so for 5 years it sat at the
far end of the gi-hugic table up smashed between the wall and the afore
mentioned Mother’s table in our room.) Anywhoo (again!) so I needed to move his
circular saw that was where I needed to sit on a stool to hand paint a leaf
border just above the chair rail. The
saw was heavy so I just rotated it so I wouldn’t have my leg up against anything
dangerous while I was distracted painting.
You may have noticed I’m a klutz and an accident waiting to happen so I
was trying to be cautious. I didn’t
notice that this 7-inch-stick-out-handle-looking-thing stuck out. It was black. Over dark burgundy carpet. While I had my glasses off because I was hand
painting details. So I stood up slowly
to pay attention to the sore knee then tried to scoot backwards so as to not
spill the paint I had sensibly sat on my stool when said handle reached out and
grabbed my leg and knocked me on my behind.
I slammed into a corner of the Grandmother Clock dead center between my
shoulder blades. I didn’t break the
clock glass and the hit was placed just the right way between my shoulders and
missed my spine, fortunately, where I had back surgery a year ago. I’m still protective of my little surgery
spot. The clock chimes made a colossal
racket for a couple jiffies while I was
a wee bit dazed and I just sat there, being glad that I had started carrying my
cell phone on me at all times as Brian insisted about 7 years ago, and so I pondered
whether I needed to call anyone. Shawn worked evenings and Craig was at the church
for worship team rehearsal which is 15 minutes away in Galena. So I sat quietly
and I looked up when Shawn came around the corner from the stairs and into the
kitchen. He had the night off for no apparent
reason but to rescue his mommy. As a
good son he flew across the floor to make sure I wasn’t dead yet. I actually said, “I’m not dead yet.” (We’re serious Monty Python fans.) So he helped me up. Again, no injuries, not even a sore spot
between my shoulders. This happened less
than a month ago.
And then there was the studio chair incident of 5 days
ago. I was seated, leaning over to pick
up a small box, lightweight and all, while sitting on the edge of my studio
rolling desk type chair. I felt myself
inching forward, half inching actually. I didn’t feel like I would take too long to
lift that lightweight box before needing to adjust my position when all of a
sudden I skated off the chair, slammed to the concrete floor and I smacked my
head on the chair’s rounded seat bottom that was abundantly harder than Mt.
Rushmore as it suddenly stopped against the shelving behind the chair. 6 days later and I still have a sore
spot! So, son Brian was helping to carry
studio supplies to the basement. He
heard the crash and laughed thinking I just knocked over the big stack of boxes
on the table. Well he apologized profusely
when he found me on the floor. He’s a
good son. Both my guys are. Trapped between the table, a big heavy box
and a wooden stool, I couldn’t get up.
Craig appeared with another stack of boxes, he shook his head, then he
and Brian each took an elbow and lifted me up.
Besides my head, again I was fine.
Honestly, I think I have about a dozen Guardian Angels
around me ALL THE TIME! They are not
quick enough to keep me from hitting the floor, but they do make it a bit
easier by always having someone nearby to pick me up and they keep me from
sending a call to my beloved paramedics for a joyous trip to the ER. Thank God for Guardian Angels!
