I woke up at 5:30 a.m. this morning to my husband's cell ringing. I decided I better check who was calling only to find it was an alarm. Seeing his battery had half a charge and he would be gone ice fishing all evening, I thought I should put it on the charger.
I unwisely descended the basement stairs in the dark to hook up his charger. At the bottom of the stairs, we have one concrete step that matches the floor in color. I missed that step in the dark and stepped on the side of my foot unable to stop my full body weight from crushing down on my twisted ankle. I laid there at the bottom of the stairs trying to assess the damage. Deciding nothing was broken, I hoisted myself up to a standing position and continued to connect his cell phone to the charger.
As I ascended the steps, I realized I would need some ice for my ankle. Grabbing the ice, I sat on the couch for a moment to rest my injury. Then, I made a phone call to my daughter to cancel our shopping trip that day.
I climbed the flight of stairs to my bedroom and decided to rest a little longer.
I have always loved two-story houses, but began to realize how many times I climb stairs in a day.
Why is it that we can't stop the fall as we feel it coming on? Have you ever climbed a flight of stairs in the dark and thought there was one more step and ended up stomping down really hard with the foot that was supposed to find that missing step?
