Falling Down

Friday morning as I was leaving for work I slipped on the Tall Drink of Water's icey stairs.

It seems to be going around.

I didn't fall though. Instead, I caught myself on the metal rail I was holding on to, and all my weight ended up on the skin between my bicep and the rail. The pinch mark doesn't look like much, but it hurts.

TDW, who was behind me, didn't even giggle. Not once. What a guy. Because I most certainly would have laughed.

Later I recounted the story to my dad after he told me about a recent ice battle of his own.

He slipped on the ramp leading to the shed, spilling the bucket of water he was carrying for his hunting dogs.

"Liked. To. Ripped. Myself. In two," he said. "I'd have been better off falling instead of flailing around like I did."

After the story he put my mom on the phone, who immediately demanded to know what kind of peanut butter I have.

"What makes you think I have peanut butter," I asked.

"Because I always told you if you have peanut butter you'll never starve."

Hmm... I have two jars of Jif. No danger of me starving then. (Interestingly, starving - actual starving, not just being hungry - is something my mom has always been somewhat concerned about.)

"I had the recalled kind, " she said. "I probably ate a half a jar of it."

Which is strange, she added, because usually she buys Jif.

"It's whipped," she said. "I threw it out. It wasn't very good anyway."

Especially not now, we agreed.

Then we went on to talk about how we giggle when we're not supposed to.