A Crime of Stupidity

Weapon Used

So, I poked holes in my kitchen trash can. I saw this little hack online and it works really well. When I try to pull those plastic trash bags from the can I often end up fighting myself because of the vacuum seal that results between the can and bag. To prevent this, you just punch some holes in the sides of your can, a few inches from the bottom. It really works great.

I usually pour about a quarter cup of PineSol in the bottom of my can each week. It usually dries up in a day or so but it smells wonderful and when the can needs washing out, it is a much easier process. Just use your sink sprayer and put two or three cups of water in it and swish with a toilet brush, rinse, and pour the dirty water down the toilet.

Scene of the Crime

There is one inherent flaw in this process. I found it today. If you're standing at the sink, daydreaming, and use the sprayer you have to remember those holes. After work today, I took out the garbage and decided while I was filling the sink to do dishes that I'd clean the can. I happened to look down to see water spraying out of four small holes in the sides of my can. The damage wasn't serious but it did require mopping the floor a couple of times. It took a bit to sop up all the water and I had a good laugh at myself, but no harm done ... until I stepped into the den ajacent to the kitchen.

I was still wearing my work shoes, low heels, when I stepped down from a wet floor onto the dry concrete floor. My right foot was still on the step and left foot on the floor... for a second. The left foot slipped out from beneath me. I fell, the right leg bending at the knee beneath me, my body falling backward and landing on my right calf and foot. I hit  my arm just above my left elbow on the edge of the concrete step.

Fortunately, that arm and the bent leg probably kept me from hitting my neck or head on the concrete step. However, the front of my right thigh felt as if it had just undergone some sort of test to see how far it could be stretched. I remember doing something similar in aerobics or something when I was about 25. I'm not 25 now.

I struggled onto my butt from my prone position and was lucky enough to reach the house phone. I called my son, Mike because I honestly didn't think I could get up. I was wedged between the kitchen door and a desk, with one leg doubled under me and both it and my arm giving me a good dressing down.

I really believed I'd probably broken that leg but after the first wave of pain swept over me, I decided I was in better shape that I originally feared. My body began to wake up from the shock about the time Mike arrived. The arm hurt and will probably pout for a few days. The thigh still protested having to support my uh.... weight but then they usually do anyway. My upper back was annoyed I'd clinched up. Although my neck had not struck anything, it was absolutely irate at the strain I'd placed on it when my body protested falling. Everyone's a critic.

Mike was worried  and said, "Good thing you didn't break your leg." 

I looked at him. "Right, because I don't think you would take as good a care of me as I did of you."

We both laughed. He went home. I finished putting away the laundry. My leg and back were not happy, so I took a hot shower and two Tylenol. I suspect tomorrow they'll get back at me.