I really like Chelsea Handler. Not that it has anything to do with this post whatsoever, I just thought I mention it. :-) She's got a hard edge and a sweet heart.
So anyway, AH had to work all day Friday, Friday night and then came home around 7:30 Saturday morning. Whenever Tom leaves for an overnight trip Samten, who is half tibetan terrier and therefore bred to be companionable and protective (but in a nice way) goes on red alert. He's all, "You go on and do what you must, I've got it covered here at home." He hangs out by the front window, patrols the perimeter (I swear I'm not making this up. Every couple of hours he goes outside and walks the perimeter of the yard.) and sticks to me like glue. His bark changes from his usual "I'm really bored so I'll bark at this for lame entertainment" to a deep "I mean business". He is, however, very obedient, so when the pizza delivery guy comes he stays by the window on command. Overall, it is not such a bad thing to be protected by Samten.
Friday evening I decide to go downstairs to check on a drying art project. I have my arms full of stuff that needs to go down. Does anyone else do this; make piles of things that need to go up or down stairs and then take them when you go for something else? It would be so much more aerobically beneficial if I just took them down when I find them. But I digress. So I'm walking down the stairs with one hip against the railing to steady myself when Samten comes hurdling down the steps and hits me right behind the knees. I think he was trying to get down there first to be sure all was well before I got down there, but what was intended to save my life ended me at the bottom of the steps in a heap. Not exactly the bottom, I did manage to stop myself before I hit the actual floor. And, if I had hit the bottom my fall would have been cushioned by a weeks worth of tablecloths and napkins that I toss down the steps to be picked up later and carried to the laundry. It would appear that I have a problem with procrastination.
After taking inventory and few deep breaths (and some words. I said a few words not generally acceptable in polite company) I decide that I am not seriously injured, ignore my dumped load of stuff, and head back upstairs. Nothing broken and no blood. Yay. Saturday I felt pretty good. Today I can hardly move and I have an impressive bruise blooming on my hip. Considering all possible outcomes, mine isn't so bad.
So will I stop piling up my stuff and begin carrying it down more frequently and in smaller quantities? I'd like to say that will be the case, but there is already a pile starting in the dining room and it's looking like a two tripper to me. Old habits die hard and old ladies fall harder. he he.
*Steampunk pumpkin pictured above, which I LOVE, came from Edward's Apple Orchard. Just in case you were wondering.