My Fall

I fell down the stairs yesterday.  Okay, "fell" might be a little dramatic.  I sort of slid down most of the steps and eventually fell onto the bottom ones.  In my defense, I was wearing socks (I was wearing other clothing as well, but only the socks are pertinent).  The socks were very slippery (I think they may have had some silk in them).  Apparently, I am not accustomed to such fine hosiery and I wasn't prepared for my lack of friction.  After the first little slip/stumble, I assumed I would get my footing on the next step.  Instead, I repeated this "shuffle" most of the way down.  Things quickly went from a little unstable to completely out of control.  Of course, grabbing the railing was out of the question since our railing is on the right side and my right hand was busy holding a cup of hot coffee.  If it hadn't been for the coffee, I'm pretty sure I would have been able to stabilize myself without incident.  Instead, I careened down the stairs, right arm thrust forward as if it held a sword and I was diving into battle.

When I finally hit bottom, I landed on my left side, still protecting the coffee on the right.  This did not prevent me from flinging most of it on the wall, the door frame, the steps and myself.  I sat for moment, taking in the massive stain on the wall before me.  There was still a little coffee in the cup, so I drank it before I tried to get up.  I didn't want to risk spilling it.  I looked up the steps and saw my eight year old looking down at me.  He'd witnessed the whole spectacle.  "That," he stated, "looked like it hurt." I nodded and stood, taking a quick assessment of my condition.  Nothing seemed broken or sprained, just sore - sore left hip, sore left shoulder, sore left arm. 

My wife was in the shower while I was falling.  By the time she came downstairs, I had cleaned the mess and set the boys up with breakfast at the kitchen counter.  I waited for one of them to tell Mom about Dad's big accident.  Instead, they seemed to have forgotten the whole episode and were discussing something on the back of the cereal box.  They were ready to move on but I wasn't.  If I'm going to fall down a flight of stairs and dump coffee all over myself and the walls and then have to clean it up, well, I'm going to get at least a little sympathy.  I groaned and made my way across the kitchen with an exaggerated limp.  It took a couple of passes before she noticed.  She responded with an appropriate amount of alarm and concern as I casually remarked that I'd fallen down the stairs.  I assured her that I was fine, just a little sore.  I felt better, knowing that someone felt bad for me.

Anyway, in the future I shall take greater care when wearing fancy socks.