Or, Another Day in the Life of a Graceless Woman.

Okay, it was actually corn and peas.

Last evening Ken and I went out to dinner with the neighbors. We got home a bit late and I hurried to feed the critters. The sugar gliders were barking their demands and I rushed about counting out worms for their supper, serving them up as quickly as possible in order to pacify the little begging beasties. While they squabbled over the juicy bee moth larva I measured out the corn and peas, a tablespoon of the combined veggies for each of my grey-coated lovies.

I feed these tender morsels of vegetarian goodness in tiny muffin tins, and so with two trays precariously balanced in one hand and a third in the other I scurried down the stairs. Or rather, stumbled head first. The rubber sole of my generally secure Nike grabbed the carpet and sent me in a disturbing rush down the stairs. I threw the tins into the air, sending corn and peas raining down two flights of stairs, across the foyer, over the balcony and into the hallway as far as the closet of the master bedroom (which is actually around a corner). I reached out and caught the bannister, breaking two nails as well as my fall. My momentum sent me crashing, chest first, into the newel post, knocking the breath from my already challenged lungs before depositing me flat on my back on the midway landing.

By then my husband had been alarmed by the commotion, apparently my clumsiness was quite noisy with all the thudding, thumping, squeals of surprise and gulping for breath. He had been on the phone to his mother and had simply thrown down the phone to rush to my aid. By the time he arrived I was able to squeak out, "I'm fine, don't step on the corn," though from his expression he seemed very doubtful about my well-being. Once he realized I truly was not dead and no bones were broken, he dragged out the vacuum and began sucking up all the bits and pieces of sugar glider nourishment, encouraging me to stand and begin the veggie feeding enterprise again.

While there were no aches or pains, no bruises and only one carpet-burned knee last night, this morning I awoke to colorful bruises in a number of places one would not show in polite company and a stiffness of back and legs that brought to mind the days of old age still to come.

What became of the mother on the phone, you ask? Ken called her back a bit later only to be told that her phone must have 'cut out' as she had been disconnected from his earlier call. Gratefully, her misconception exempted us from explaning my graceless mishap.

Needless to say, I will be walking down the stairs with much greater caution from this day forword.