Well now you know the truth about my Scotland trip. Months later, I had yet another unrelated incident. Think less itch and more pain.
It was the day of Mini's graduation party. I had just returned from Indianapolis the day before. Who plans a graduation party for the day after they are out of town? Um, no comment. I wrote down a few things I hoped Coach would do while I was gone, but I didn't REALLY think he was going to do any of it.
First of all let me point out that Coach spent hours that morning trimming the shrubs and trees in the yard. Um, it was raining and there was no chance that our guests were going to spend any amount of time outside during the party. At least we had a bigger space with the kitchen expansion, so we had room for people inside.
I am of the mindset that in order to throw a party the host should do as much as possible in advance - especially a host with 6 of the messiest kids in the history of kids. I can't clean the kitchen in advance because my offspring will destroy it in one meal (I mean I think that is pretty standard), but I can dust my china hutch in the dining room, dust mop the living room, deal with stacks of paperwork on the island, and do some of the food prep in advance.
If we were going to focus on the landscaping, (and why would this be important to us for this party when it has been a tradition to overlook it for forever) then why wouldn't we, aka Coach, have focused on it a week or two in advance? If you had spied on us that morning, you would have seen Coach in the yard drenched in sweat wrestling branches and chopping away at straggling overgrowth while I dripped in sweat racing around the kitchen. I was trying to put some order to the house while plugging in crock-pots and calling out orders. The boys were caddying, but Mini and Curly took orders like champs.
Less than an hour before the party, Coach ran to get ice. That's when it happened. I kicked it into overdrive and overdrive kicked me back - hard.
|This is the light fixture. |
There are two of them over the
island. Notice the lack of hood
in the background. It is so
frustrating I can't bring myself
to write about it. A vi-jay-jay
story was embarrassing
but not frustrating.
I lunged forward on the island with one foot planted on the counter and wiped down the light fixtures. Coach's first comment about the new lights over the island was that they would be hard to clean. I told him since it might bother him and since he had the height advantage at 6 foot 4, that the lights over the island could become his job. These lights were on the little list I jotted down as I left for Indy. I found out later that he had already done them. Oops.
My bigger oops, was when I stepped down off of the island. I misjudged where I was. I thought I was stepping sideways off of the stool and clearing the backrest. No. I was stepping over the backrest. My leg might be long, but not THAT long. I couldn't reach the ground with the backrest up in my bits. I fell. My crotch caught the backrest of the stool. The stool fell. Yep. That sucked.
I had been trying to pace myself so that I could get in the shower at an acceptable time - all the while I was watching my husband attack our hopeless landscaping in crummy weather. Fortunately I wasn't writhing on the floor holding myself between my legs as guests were arriving. I had a few spare minutes.
|The scene of the accident. No idea how |
I got so disoriented that I thought that
my foot was coming off the side
not over the back of this stool. Duh!
There were other bruises, but I decided I was lucky that I didn't break my arm or something. Coach was ticked that I had been such a knucklehead. 'I already did that,' he hollered. He acted as if him accomplishing his chores was a given.
A few guests had trickled in while I was showering. My quick shower routine called for a bit of extra time since I needed to apply ice to the 'area'.