Saturday, March 29, 2008

Old Enough to Know Better

God, protect me from my own stupidity.

The day started off well enough. Every year before my vacation, I find it necessary to clean out the garage because little brother's vehicle takes up more space than mine does and I want him to be able to park inside while he's here house, pet and mother sitting. I normally have a space carved out just big enough for my Explorer. This is due to the everlasting process of purging the junk we moved with us 8 years ago and the additional junk that I acquired after we lost Daddy. Today I took two full loads of good junk to the thrift store and while I know the junk-bunnies will be reproducing again, at least there is space enough for the pickup for now.

So I was pretty tired by the end of the second trip. I picked up some lunch and was feeling much more alive once I had eaten. The dogs, feeling they had been neglected, flirted with me to play a little. We were having a good time and I got the bright idea of playing hide and seek with them. This is a game we've played many times, so I did not sense impending doom.

I sent them scurrying off with a "sic the squirrel" and while they were looking the other way, dashed into Mother's bathroom to hide in the tub. This is where I got stupid.

Cindy's new #1 rule:

When you are approaching 54 and you're already tired, it is not a good idea to spring onto the side of the tub.

My foot slipped.

On the way down, in slow motion, I had a lot of time to think.

"You're going to crack your head open. If you don't do that, you're going to break a leg. Either way, your vacation is history. Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

By some miracle, I did not hit my head on the vanity as I went down. I did not break a leg. I landed, hard, on my butt and elbow. My back twisted a bit, I bumped my forehead (not hard, thank goodness), and I was turning the air dark blue with foul language, but I was in one piece. The dogs, bless their hearts, decided to run to the opposite end of the house until Mommy stopped screaming. They were not born to be rescue dogs.

I limped back to my chair, groaning. The dogs returned in about ten minutes, cautiously peering around the door before making their entrance. They still aren't entirely sure I haven't lost my mind.

Since I don't imagine I will be able to move much tomorrow, I finished up the last of the garage cleaning and I'm now sitting here feeling my abused body tightening and the bruises developing.

Way old enough to know better. Fool enough to do it anyway.


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