"Mommy, Why Did You Force Daddy to Hit You?"

This isn't the best representation of my new black eye, if only because you can't actually see the true purpleness of the lid. It really just looks like I'm super tired or haven't slept well for a few nights. Shawn is going to send me a better one if he can find it. How many times have I told the story? As in every accident, there are moments where I should've just stopped and said, Hmm...Is this really a good idea?

Moment One: I contemplate the wooden, twin-sized bed frame sitting in the hallway on the second story of the house. Shawn is mopping the hardwood floors in the bedroom where we just spent the last two hours breaking our backs pulling up the carpet, linoleum, and two layers of thin paneling. I could ask for his help, but look, he is already so industrious mopping the floor and if I ask for his help, he might make me switch with him and I totally don't want to mop. So instead, I decide to pick up the bed frame and take it to the basement by myself.

Moment Two: Wow, this is really heavy. It's hard to get down this first landing of stairs. Maybe I should just leave it at the bottom and let Shawn take it to the basement later? No. I want to get it done.

Moment Three: It's not fitting through the basement door. It's large and unweildy but I don't feel like moving the desk in the lounge to make it work better (impatience again). If I have to move the desk, that will take longer! I am determined to get this down into the basement, even if it means breaking the frame in half. I stand on the landing of the basement steps, yanking the bedframe through the door.

Moment Four: Should I be doing this wearing socks?

Moment Five: Should I be doing this at all at 9:30 p.m. after a long day?

Moment Six: The bed frame will almost, almost, almost make it. I could leave it sitting halfway in and halfway out of the stairwell if I wanted. I could come back later with Shawn but maybe he would irritate me by trying to tell me how to do it when I know my way is best (yanking and hoping). I yank again.

Moment Seven: Holy shit, I'm falling.

Moment Eight: I end up at the bottom of the stairs. I have a vague recollection of having fallen forward though I don't know why that would be. I don't think the frame landed on me, fortunately. I am bleeding on my head. I am alive and not paralyzed.

Moment Nine: Spend the next hour on the sofa, thanking God that I didn't break my neck and wondering if this means I should make huge changes in my life. So far, I have started taking vitamins. It is something.

Comments

jodie said…
you poor bunny!!
jodie said…
but you look like you're six in that photo--it's kind of creepy.
Aimee said…
I don't think I look like I'm six. Anyway, it's chic now to look pre pre pre pubescent.
Liz said…
i have a bottle of vitamins in a box in the trunk of my car. i bought them at BJs after i decided to make some life changes too. that was three weeks ago. so far i've downed one one-a-day. as you so eloquently express: it is something.

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