Okay, this post isn't really about the fire. Or the house. But it does include pain and a journey, so I thought you might enjoy it. Because really, we all enjoy laughing at other people's pain, right?
I journeyed to Omaha Friday night to attend the Pampered Chef's Spring Launch and I succeeded in launching myself right off a sidewalk. Spring Launch is where all the new spring products are revealed to the cheers of a thousand happy consultants. We planned to stay in a hotel in Omaha Friday night so we could head to the conference all fresh and rested Saturday morning. We stopped at a little steakhouse in Rock Port for dinner and that is where the mishap occurred.
I paid my bill and left the restaurant. I was walking down the sidewalk toward the vehicle, still folding my money back into my wallet, when I noticed that nobody was in the vehicle. I started to turn around when my friend, Mandy waved to me from the tinted back window. I smiled at Mandy and stepped happily down the sidewalk.
That was when I became acutely aware that my right foot was not coming with me. I was falling. No big deal. I looked at Mandy and smiled as if to say "no problem. I got this." Mandy says she thought I was bending over to pick something up. It began that gracefully. But then something went insanely wrong.
I instantly made the decision that falling on my knee would not be a good thing and I put my hands out to brace the fall and take some of the impact. I would fall, stand back up, giggle, get in the vehicle. Right? No. I fell. I rolled. I who-the-hell-knows-what. All I know is I was walking East. And then I was flat on my back, sprawl-legged, looking at sky, half-way under the Highlander, head pointed South, butt aimed North, shoes flung here and there, wallet open on the gravel, and money scattered everywhere.
Two thoughts went through my head simultaneously:
Get UP before someone sees you! & What the hell just happened?
Mandy peered down from the window. She opened the door just a crack and I said very seriously: You. Saw. NOTHING. She said "are you alright?" "I don't know yet" I mumbled. I reached for the door handle on the Highlander to pull myself up but of course, the door OPENED which is what happens when you pull on the handle and I sprawled back on my butt. Then our friend Jim was there and he was all "are you alright? What happened?" And at that point I was all "I don't really know."
This was the most embarrassing moment, to date, of my adult life. I wanted desperately to laugh it off and enjoy the rest of the drive into Omaha, but I was in PAIN. I took the skin off my right knee. I took the skin off my right arm. By the time we reached Omaha, I had a big, swollen bruise on that arm. When I eased myself into bed I realized I had hit my right butt cheek on something and could not lay on it. I couldn't really lay on the left hip either. Mandy and I laughed and giggled while reliving the whole scenario and finally I settled in to sleep in an uncomfortable, awkward position.
The next day my back began to hurt and by evening I felt like I had been run over by the Highlander I had landed under. I really do not know how I could have hit, poked, skinned, or pummeled so many parts of my body on such a short journey from curb to parking lot. Damn gravel. I spent Saturday night in a bath tub full of Epsom salt.
At any rate, the new spring products are fabulous. I had a great time, considering. And now it is back to work and another week of house recovery. This week we will meet with the kitchen designer. The final three bedrooms are being demolished. The basement clean-out continues. Life marches on.