It started well. After much deliberation I’ve finally decided on a (rough) design for my tattoo. My appreciations to those who put up with my mental joyride over that today. :)
Then late this afternoon we went to see about the possibility of getting a new car. For a few reasons we needed something a little bigger, and though we were fully expecting the finance people to tell us to bog off, for some reason they didn’t (silly people!). So we pick up the new car on Tuesday evening.
We get home, talking about what we’ll have for dinner, and which tattoo parlours to pick on tomorrow. In the midst of these discussions we were mulling around doing various tasks, and I had to go out to the front of the house to put some rubbish in the bin. I open the front door and wuuuuush…I did a superman act as I fell over the step and onto the second step, landing on my side half on the step and half on the pavement.
It’s amazing how much shock you get just from a simple fall when you’re older (not that I’m ancient, but still). I’m not even sure how it happened, just that I hit the floor with a thud, heard some passer by exclaim ‘Ouch I felt that’ (like I didn’t?!), and then realised I couldn’t get up because of excruciating pain in my ankle and hand/wrist. After a few minutes of sitting on the floor looking dazed and confused, hubby managed to help me up and get me inside. For the rest of the night I’ve been hobbling around on one foot cursing, knowing that for the next couple of days I’m going to feel like a total invalid, just because I tripped up!
It’s pretty funny looking back at it now, I must have looked hilarious flying out of my front door onto the path. I just hope the pain in my ankle dulls tomorrow, if not I fear a trip to the hospital may be in order, and who wants to spend the bank holiday weekend there…