Wipe-Out

On Sunday afternoon, I was moody. I was sitting on the couch, stewing about something insignificant. (Seriously insignificant - I don't even remember what it was.) Crisp and his little brother, who was visiting for the weekend, were watching some silly Yukon Alaska television show on one of the "man channels" that we apparently subscribe to. So, I decided to go stew in the bedroom while watching something more girly on TV.

I stood up - admittedly, in a bit of a huff - and went to walk around the couch. I didn't see the gigantic Kong dog toy that was on the floor, and my left foot landed right on it.

The Kong started rolling before I could get my right foot on the ground, and with a burst of momentum, I somehow became airborne. My arms flew out to the side, my face contorted into a horrified grimace, and my mind whirled at the thought that I was about to slam down onto the hard, tiled floor of our basement apartment.

And that I did. Belly-flop, right behind the sofa. As I stared at the floor, I heard Cris and his brother jump up, asking me if I was all right. Other than a slightly banged-up knee and a majorly banged-up ego, I was fine. I started half-laughing and half-crying, purely from the shock and embarrassment. The giggles lasted for almost an hour, but that was the only side effect of my collision with the floor...

... Didn't even get a single bruise. Thanks, Kong!