My apologies, again, as usual, for my long absences. I'm trying not to abuse this blog as an outlet for all my whining in the dwindling weeks of this pregnancy, but really, it is all consuming. So I'm sparing you my complaining--be glad you're not hearing much from me. Not to mention that if I have 5 minutes to myself these days, I try to spend them sleeping.
But today I have a quick story to tell that I couldn't summarize pithily enough for a facebook status, though it is almost brief enough.
Last night, I fell down the steps.
Sort of. Almost. Now before you become all shocked and horrified with visions of Scarlet O'Hara tumbling gracefully down a grand, red carpeted staircase complete with southern belle shrieks and dramatic music let me tell you that it was just like most of my adventures, basically just clumsy and stupid. And I really didn't even fall. Just sort of stumbled with my left foot down three steps while my right foot remained securely planted on a higher step and I clung precariously to the banister and yelped.
Chad was sitting at his desk and looked up in irritation in plain view of my near-tumble. "What are you doing?" he snapped. And then (afterthought) "Are you okay?"
Tears sprang to my eyes, more in annoyance than actual pain, and I snapped something back (can't remember what--it was just so pointed and witty) and resumed my lumbering way back upstairs to my beloved bed, no real harm done. My right ankle (the one I broke in high school) has complained a bit more noisily than usual in the last day, so I probably wrenched or twisted something a bit, but in the general scheme of things my little stair adventure was a non-event. I spent the rest of the evening imagining what my beloved husband might have, should have said.
It goes something like this. "Oh my heavens, my dearest darling, what happened?" as he dashes to my side, knocking his chair over in his haste and worry. "Are you alright? Oh my goodness, what might have been!" (pause here for horrified brooding). "You sit down here on the couch while I get everyone to bed. Then I'm bringing you a big bowl of ice cream and that bottle of peppermint foot lotion I bought to surprise you with when the baby comes. We're starting my nightly foot rubs right now."
But if he had said something like that he would:
1. Not have been the slightly tongue tied man I married and adore (you know that song--"you say it best when you say nothing at all"? My darling's theme song).
2. Probably have a girlfriend with huge boobs (unaccompanied by the huge belly) waiting somewhere in the wings.
and, 3. been some kind of metro-sexual freak that would irritate the living snot out of me 90% of the time.
But, a girl can dream, right?
