Ottoman Empire

About a month ago Mark bought some 'doggy stairs' for Sasha so that she could climb up into our bed on her own. She hated them and refused to use them. It didn't matter. Within days, on one of my nocturnal trips to the bathroom, I smashed them as I stomped through the bedroom in the dark. We returned the doggy stairs, claiming our little schnauzer had caused them to collapse. A week ago Mark found a little ottoman at Home Goods. It was perfect, and within one day Sasha was using it to jump up into our giant dog nest.

One thing that I have learned since the onset of my glaucoma problem is this. When I make that fateful step off into space because I have no peripheral vision and I feel myself falling, don't fight it. That is what happened this morning. It's not like I didn't know that ottoman was sitting there next to the bed. I knew it was there, I just forgot. As I catapulted through the air towards the television set, I cursed knowing immediately what I had tripped over. By all rights I should have ended up lying on the floor with the giant flat screen television on top of me. But I have learned from years of experience. I went with the flow of my fall, twisting my body oh so slightly, and ended up in a cardboard box that had been sitting next to the television. No broken bones, no sprains, just a horrible pounding headache all day long. Not much different than a Saturday morning after a night at Sidelines Bar.