Ice Cream and Bruises

To start out with, I should explain: I have no depth perception. I cannot tell exactly where things are, or how far away they may be from me or each other. Apparently, my eyes don't work together as they should so distance and location has always been impossible for me to determine. This has cause me to bump into doorways, knock over drinks, etc.

As a result of this, I am not the type of person who rearranges their furniture very often. I tend to put everything in a spot and there it will remain until I move out. Earlier this year, however, I got tired of bumping into the doorway leading out of our main room. There was a chair on one side and a dresser on the other. But they were on the wrong sides. The chair was on the narrow side and the dresser was on the wider side.

So I switched them. Seemed to make sense. The chair was wider than the space it was in, and blocking part of the doorway. Switching sides would mean a clear path to the other room and I shouldn't bump into the doorway anymore.

But the chair was long than the dresser, and that meant I had to remember to walk two steps further before I turned to go through the doorway. I think you can see where this is going now, *grins*

All went well for a few days, until we decided to have ice cream cones. The ice cream didn't want to stay on the cone so I dumped it into a bowl and ate the cone first. Then I reached for the ice cream and realized I didn't have a spoon. Focused on what I was reading, I grabbed the bowl and jumped up to hurry to the kitchen to get a spoon.

I have no idea why I took the bowl with me, it could have sat on the table while I got the spoon, but I took it with me. Not really thinking about anything except getting that spoon and getting back to my story, I forgot about that chair I moved.

Yup, I tripped on it. But this wasn't a simple stumble. Nope, it was much more dramatic than that. Picture this scene now: My foot slammed under the chair. I went flying forward, landing on the chair. But since I was moving quickly, there was more. I bounced off the chair and hit the dresser before finally crash landing on the floor. The ice cream and the bowl soared up and landed in the chair, splattering all over it.

Go ahead. You can laugh. I know you want to. I sure did. Even laying there on the floor, bruised in many places from that dramatic fall, trying to catch my breath and gasping from the ache of hitting my foot on the chair, the throbbing in my side from colliding with the dresser, and the pain in my hip and back from the wrenching landing on the stone tile floor. Even with all of that, I knew how funny my fall must have looked.

Ducky had seen my acrobatic failure, and when I looked up, he was standing there. Fighting off a grin and asking if I was alright. I couldn't answer at first, the pain and the laughter took my breath away. Eventually, I managed to get up, and limp back to my seat. I was bruised, wrenched and sore, but even then I knew just how ridiculous I must have looked.

That chair didn't stay there much longer, it was soon moved to an out of the way corner where I have almost no risk of tripping over it again.

I still find the whole event hilarious. One thing I now know for sure, though, is this: I am not an acrobat, nor can I fly. Oh and that chair is still plotting against me, I just know it.