Here is the scene:
Sunday morning. 6:15am! That's right - 6:15am!
I hear "daddy, daddy, daddy" coming from my daughter's room.
daddy is sleeping.
daddy got up at 6:15am on Saturday morning with this same daughter.
I (shiver)get out of our nice warm bed(shiver), pull on some pants(shiver). And stumble across our clothes strewn floor toward the door.
We live on the third floor of a very old home. Our stairwell is small and old.
And wooden. And apparently, very slippery.
I made it down the straight part okay. But. then. It curves.
Well somehow I ended up in our bathroom (which is to the right of the end of our stairs). To be more exact I landed on the floor of our bathroom. With my right foot in my son's potty and my left leg in the hallway.
The sound of me tumbling, cursing and crashing did not bring my husband running.
The very sad and pathetic whimper that I heard and apparently produced, is what did it.
I have a black and blue bruise on my ahem "hip" that I feel when I move, well, anything really. And I am pretty sure my little toe has some permanent damage.
Also this little episode confirms something I have been suspecting for a while now.
I am old.
And I do not just 'rebound' from things of this nature. I have been eating advil like candy and cursing myself for a fool. A big, fat, very old, fool.
And I have to say ouch.
ouch ouch ouch.
Alright I'm done.