OK, I’ll admit it was my fault for forgetting that I had just cleaned and waxed the kitchen floor. But I was walking carefully (I thought.)
Those of you who remember my previous adventures with the knee will be glad to know that I didn’t wreck it this time. This time it was the ankle. I have spent since 10am yesterday in bed, doped to the gills and still in pain. My ankle is the size of a water polo ball. All soft-tissue damage, on top of that. The cats want to play with the ace bandage, or swat at the crutches. My wife the nurse has been a godsend, but even she laughes at my clumsiness when she thinks I’m not looking.
So let this be a lesson to all - the kitchen floor looks better unwaxed. The dull matte finish is much more attractive, not mater what your SO says. Oh, and get those Vibram-soled slippers today!
Reminds me of the time when I was a wee lad and had done something to royally irritate my mother. She stood between me and my escape out the door, but she stood on a throw rug. I juked left, then right, then made my dash. She tried to give me a bit of the boot in the butt, but missed me. The momentum did, however, carry her foot way too far, and the throw rug did the rest.
