I just fell over the dog.
I don’t know why I feel compelled to let you know that, but it just happened and it’s the most significant thing that’s going on in my life. Mainly because I landed on my wrist and now I’m typing funny.
I’d just tucked Caroline into bed when I heard P knocking on the back door. He had gone outside to test the new headlights he installed on his Polaris and I’d accidentally locked him out.
Sidenote: He told me about ten minutes earlier that the only thing he didn’t understand was why ATV manufacturers don’t install better factory headlights on their vehicles. That makes two of us. It’s an issue that’s caused me to lose sleep for years.
Anyway, I’d locked him out because he has trained me to immediately lock the doors as soon as I close them and I hurried to let him back in the house. Then just as I was stepping over Scout, who never feels that his presence in the center of a doorway is an inconvenience, he decided to stand up and I fell flat on the floor into a position reminiscent of the way all the breakdancers end their solos in Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo.
I looked up in time to see P watching the whole thing through the glass back door with a look of pity and awe on his face. Welcome to thirteen years of marriage.
The irony is that Gulley and I took the kids rollerskating on Friday because someone got new white skates with pink wheels and pink pom-poms for her birthday and needed to try them out.
No, it wasn’t me.
I WISH.
It was the other birthday girl.
Gulley and I were stuck with the exact same beige skates with orange wheels that have been available for rental since 1976. And the entire experience brought Gulley back to a dark place in her childhood when she got sneaker skates for Christmas instead of white ones with pom-poms.
My long forgotten point is that if you’d told me I was going to fall and injure myself at some point in the week, I would have placed my bet on a rollerskating injury. But, oh no, that would have been way to glamorous. Instead, I tripped over the dog.
However, Caroline got a little too excited at the roller rink when she heard Party in the USA come on and, in her rush to get out on the floor, had an unfortunate encounter with a foosball table that caused her to fall right on her behind.
And she insisted she needed a bag of ice to make it feel better.
See? An injury that requires you to sit on a ziploc filled with ice has some flair.
Tripping over your dog just makes people, who may or may not be your husband, laugh at you through the back door.
He’s lucky I let him in.