Yes, I fell again. Yes, it was while walking one of the dogs, and yes, I had a bag of dog poop in my hand. For some reason I get hurt much worse when I've got a bag of poop in my hands. Maybe it throws off my reflexes and balance, and I fail to do the tuck and roll that usually saves me. So now I have very sore finger tips and a scraped knee. It happened so fast. One minute I was herding Chandler around another large dog so that they wouldn't meet, the next I was on the ground in the alley. I hit hard, and as I laid there like a giant dead cow, Chandler moseyed on over to the other side of the alley to take a pee. He totally ignored the big dog that I was trying to avoid. When I regained my senses, I pulled myself up to a sitting position and repeated my mantra until the pain subsided.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..... "
I repeated it about one hundred times, loudly.
Obviously I should avoid vacations to the Grand Canyon, or any other location that involves a long distance to the bottom. One slip, one turned ankle, and I would be a goner. But there is still my house. Besides the danger of the stairs that I could tumble down, there is my dog Scout. Last night she was in a very peppy mood and decided it would be fun to run back and forth through the house at top speed. It's amazing what only twenty five pounds of dog can do when it hits you below the knees. She took me down hard. Like I said, I know how I'm going to die.