A few days ago I was walking through my living room, minding my own business, when I managed to trip over the only thing on the floor that doesn’t belong, my running shoe. When I fall, I Fall. On the way down I hit my hip on the, now flattened, coffee table; Hit the sofa tearing the cushion. Then landed. Wedged between what was left of the coffee table and the sofa. After assessing my situation for a few seconds, I tried to get up off the floor ( which I now know needs vacuuming ) with no success.
As described in earlier posts, I am a big guy and at the best of times it is hard to get up off the floor. Adding the fact that I was wedged, I was slipping into panic mode. Anxiety makes you do funny things like think about calling 911 to rescue me from my predicament. Common sense kicked in and I decided having Firefighters come rushing in here just to lift me from the floor was overreacting a little bit.
Then it dawned on me to move the coffee table so I could get up ( I’m not a total idiot this all took place in a matter of seconds.) So with minimal effort I moved the crushed table and used the sofa to get up. Problem solved.
I had the table propped up and the rip in the sofa taped up with duct tape by supper time. I ate supper and went to bed, carefully, not lying on the side with bruised hip. Had a dream of getting hit by a truck.
The next morning I got up did my bathroom stuff and headed for the living room. I stumbled in the same place as the day previous. On the same old shoe. I hadn’t fallen this time so there was no need for the paramedics this time, but that shoe is in the garbage.