While fighting to remain conscious last night I heard the dog whining outside the basement window. We live in a high-ranch bungalow, so I ran up the back stairs and headed to the front ones thinking 'okay, be careful, your socks are slippery'. Apparently the message didn't get to my feet in time, and they shot straight out from under me on the very first step, leaving my tailbone to tackle the descent alone. Luckily my recent hibernation has meant it has an extra layer of cushioning, so it escaped with only minor bruising. I reached out with my left hand to grab the railing and missed, but I did manage to tear the garland off the banister, I guess I figured wooden beads bonking me on the head would be soothing. I managed to miss kicking the stack of library books down on top of me, but I did mangle my right shoulder fairly badly. This is the one that keeps moving around in the socket, and with each stair I could feel it grinding away. After lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs for a couple of minutes (really no swearing at all!), I got up, let the dog in and proceeded much more carefully back downstairs to settle in for a night of suckiness.
It turned out to be much worse than that. Many of you may be thinking, 'Oh, she foiled his plans and escaped with only minor injuries', but you would be wrong, so very, very wrong. The messed up shoulder is pure torture, as I cannot knit! I have hardly any mobility in it, my hand goes numb when I try to hold the needles, and moving it causes a wonderful grinding feeling in my shoulder. Can we say cranky?
Curse him and his devious mind! Did I mention no knitting? Excuse me while I wander off to