Last week I managed to do the dumbest thing yet. “How did you manage to top the last dumb thing?” I hear you cry. Thanks. Well, my parents are putting in an extension to allow for a larger conservatory. All well and good, but at the moment this entails a large six feet deep hole by the existing conservatory door. Not moments before I investigated new depths of stupidity even for me I had been looking at this hole out of the window.
My parents have three cats, one of whom has the nasty habit of treating building work – especially any sand or fine gravel – as one big kitty en suite. I spied one of these little cute and fluffy poo machines at work, and immediately unlocked the conservatory door to shoo her off. I think you can see where this is going? One small step for woman, one giant fall flat on her face for Jenny.
I don’t bounce as well as I used to. It’s funny how there was a brief moment after impact where I lay there sprawled in the mud thinking “Shouldn’t have done that, stupid”. The bruises on my hands and legs came up quite quickly, but surprisingly it was only the following morning that the cracked ribs let themselves be known. There is no bruising whatsoever on my chest, but for a while I could hear and feel noises that should never come from one’s own chest every time I sneezed. It has also been hard to take a full breath without pain meaning that I get out of breath fairly quickly. The pain is not as bad as it was a couple of days ago, thanks for asking, but it is still letting me know just how stoooopid I was.
I’m told I should be healed enough to get my little flim-flam machine back on the road looking for the next moronic thing to do within a week or so.