Fall Down Go Boom

It’s 6:30 am, and it is time to take the five-month-old puppy with a bladder the size of a walnut outside to pee for 45 seconds before coming in and having to pee again in 45 minutes for 45 seconds.

So I’m stumbling down the hallway - almost awake - with the little miss in my arms. As I make my way down the nicely carpeted staircase (NOT holding the railing because, hey, why?), my recently exfoliated (one can never exfoliate too much) right heel decides to gracefully slide off the stair and into outer space. Despite having one hand against the wall, I am no match for gravity or momentum.

I believed I could fly. And I did. The result: one badly bruised right glute (right ASS), and one torn-up left elbow. But nothing broken, except my relationship with the furry child. She could not understand why Daddy flew like that.

I will say that I held on to her the whole time. I did not fumble.

Later that morning, I relayed my experience to Jeana, ending with. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

Her response: “Your ass was the truck.”

She then laughed so hard she may have...well...let's just say she laughed and laughed.

I need a new family.