Gravity is stupid.

I think I might be auditioning for a role in the up-and-coming Three Stooges movies, subconsciously at least.

Friday morning it was slick. We had what some would call a “Winter mix” of weather. (That is the “clever” Colorado News Anchor term for the rain/snow/sleet/ice that has a tendency to fall from our otherwise expansive blue skies. )

Friday morning I got the children into the car, managed to scrape the thin layer of icy concrete off the windshield and windows, and carefully drove through the slick streets.  I delivered the children to both of their schools on-time and without incident.  I got home safely.  I got out of the car, walked around the vehicle onto the ice-rink like ground, into the slippery alley, up the fall-on-your-ass driveway, over the face-plant slick steps, and into the back porch all without incident. 

I opened the door, put a foot inside my kitchen onto my dry kitchen floor and fell like my comedy career depended on it. My left leg slid out from under me in a banana peel fall kind of way and I twisted my way into the kitchen to land in a semi-split position on the floor, back against the 1950’s replica step-stool.

Everything but my head hurt.  My headache considerately went away to allow me to fully recognize the extent of my other injuries.  Perhaps regular physical beatings are a possible form of treatment in the future?

The result of my fall was three days of complete stiffness everywhere.  I mean everywhere.  I walked like a combination of Frankenstein and the ancient homeless lady who pushes her walker/cart down my alley.  Despite three volcanic epson salt baths I remained ironing-board stiff.  Unlike five year olds, thirty-nine year olds do not bounce.

My Three Stooges audition banana peel fall sprained my left wrist and ankle and wrenched my right knee. The weekend was spent hobbling around like the hunchback of Notre Dame.  In truth, the weekend was spent occasionally imitating the hunchback of Notre Dame. I do a passable impression (developed and perfected over time to insure a future ability to embarrass The Teen) and was getting bored with my own physical limitations.

Hunch shoulder, drag foot, swing arm, moan Sanctuary, Sanctuary in a low, dramatic voice. 

I got a lot of eye rolling from The Teen. The Teen also didn’t like it when I fell on her in the morning to wake her up, rolling around and singing Judy Garland’s “Get Happy”.  (The other option was a spritzer bottle, so I thought I was being kind). Like I said, I was getting bored.

Today I am happy to report I am down to just the sprained ankle and a bit of tenderness in the wrist.  My headache is still much better, likely because I am seeing my new specialist tomorrow and it doesn’t want to get caught messing with me while there is a medical professional present.  It’s a crafty little bugger.

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