Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Have a nice trip, see you next fall!

Side note before I begin: I am currently in the middle of Alexander McCall Smith's series "The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency" with the main character being Mma. Precious Ramotswe, the owner of the detective agency. Precious is a lot like me, including being a "traditional built" woman.

Now for the trip...

I made the most amazing oatmeal chocolate chip walnut coconut cookies Sunday afternoon (hence I am a "traditional built" woman) and delivered three fresh cookies to my sweet hubby who had gotten out of his sick bed to enter some family history into the computer (upstairs). He was indeed grateful, being a traditional built man.

Oh, another side note: the light bulb in the downstairs hall is out. Gotta replace that. (Done now)

On the way back down the stairs, in the semi darkness, I don't notice the black shoes I had previously placed there to take upstairs on the next trip...

I step on the black shoe, that now slides out from under my foot and heads down the stairs. Only my foot is attached in some strange way to the shoe, and heads down the stairs with it. With me following. In a rapid uncomfortable unnatural way.

No worries. I am under control. I can stop this rapid descent. After all, I am on the fifth step, and if I go down I will be dead at the bottom. So I do all in my power to regain my footing, and I am successful...for another step or two.

Then momentum and my traditional build take over, and I am going down, down, down. My life flashes before my eyes. I realize this isn't good. My feet are now useless appendages, and they are in no way attached to the stairs. Nothing is. I am in flight.

The scream alerts hubby who yells "are you all right?" (most frantically) and then rushes to the stairs.

By this time I have hit, all of me, and I am sprawled in the downstairs hall on the floor. No attempts to pick myself up, but I am pretty sure nothing is broken. Except I can't really breathe.

Then I look up. And frantic hubby of traditional build is headed down the stairs. And...

remember that black shoe?

He hits the shoe, and again, my life flashes before my eyes. Because if MY fall doesn't kill me, surely when he lands on top of me, it's over.

With the grace and agility of a ballerina/hockey player, he successfully regains his footing, and spares me a trip to the ER...or the morgue.

That was a close call.


Anonymous said...

Firstly, I'm glad you are both okay. Secondly, thanks for providing me with some entertainment during insomniac night last night.

Dara said...

Your post made me smile. I'm glad neither of you got hurt. I need to try reading those ladies detective agency books, you told us how wonderful they were at the Relief society book night. Now I just have to remember to find them.

Cindi said...

We are all so glad that you are OK and we are also laughing at your rendition. You have such a way of making the scary seem hilarious.

We are so happy that you were able to come visit us. I hope that the rest of your trip (in Utah) was enjoyable.

Hez said...

MOM!!! That story is HILARIOUS!!! When you told me over the phone, I was worried... but that story... that was like, Shauna funny... honestly!

The Huffakers said...

Oh my goodness, I almost wet myself laughing at that story. Honestly why aren't you getting paid to blog. I am sure that with Larry and your storytelling ability you could have a following in no time.
seriously so funny

The Huffakers said...

Wow the house looks amazing. You are so grown up with a real house and all! Anyway even though we wont be living in utah you should still come visit us.
Olivia is darling.

The Huffakers said...

oops that was intended for another blog. Hey cut me some slack I am new at this blogger world that you have sucked me into