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.
I think you just gave Mark an idea.
ReplyDeleteHe has a bag of lime and a shovel in the garage already.
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