Yesterday, I fell down the stairs. ‘Slipped down’ is probably a more accurate phrase. I misjudge or misstep and nearly fall off or down or onto things all the time — key word there being nearly. I always catch myself. I have pretty good balance. Actually falling down is just not something I do a lot of.
So you can imagine my surprise when I’m suddenly prone, on the staircase, one hand half-on the railing. I had to sit there for several seconds not because it hurt – although it did – but because my brain could just not process the fact that I had fallen. There wasn’t even anything to trip over! The only explanation I came up with is that I was wearing very soft socks and walking down carpeted stairs, and I have a very bad and very old habit of walking on the balls of my feet. I guess I hit the stair wrong when I stepped down and the sock-carpet combination pulled my feet out from under me too fast to do anything about.
So now I have a lovely purblue bruise on my hip, I won’t be able to sit properly (er, well…at least, I won’t be able to sit however I want) for proably the next several days.
Upon waking up this moring and wandering around today I’ve decided, though, that the fall hurt me more than I realized at the time. My back (which got hit too) and arms are more sore and sore in different ways than can be explained away by just the cold weather. Oooooow.