Owwwie.
I was moving a huge maple bookcase with my dad yesterday. The idea was simple: my mum emptied it out, and papa and I were supposed to take it from the study upstairs, all the way down to the basement. This way, they could repaint the room without any furniture in it. They’re not sure they are going to put that bookcase back in there, anyway, and may give it to me in the end.
Anyway.
Papa and I picked up the beast and started making our way down the staircase. Now, you have to understand, this is a wide staircase with a solid wooden ramp on both sides, which sweeps into the living room. It’s a bit like one of those grand staircases that branch off into two at the mid point.
I was carrying the weight of the thing, being the one going down first. When I reached the last step, it all went to hell.
My parents have a golden retriever who likes to run around the house and rearrange the carpets. The lower floor, just like the top floor, is hard-wood flooring. Sophie (damned dog) had left one of the little wee semi-circle carpets at the bottom of the stairs. That piece of shit (the carpet…) has NO TRACTION on the wooden floor surface. I stepped on it. I slipped. I did (according to papa) a kickass arabesque, and fell flat on my face. I had been the one going down the stairs backwards, with the bookcase in my arms, and so when my feet left from under me (“Feets, don’t fail me NOW!” I shouted…) I actually fell FORWARD, not back like normal people. Noooo… not me. Forward. squish went the bookcase onto little old me.
End result? The bookcase hit me in the head (I have an egg growing on my head now), and I bruised my entire left side. My dignity is gone. GONE! My mom laughed hysterically. So did papa. Bastards.
So this morning, I ache. Badly. I’m bruised, my ego is bruised, and my head hurts. Took some meds for the pain, but now I’m feeling cranky. And I have my boss popping by in about an hour to review his book. Waaaah!
…
Yeah yeah, I know, Mundane and Pointless sharing of story…
Elly
