And Down Goes Dralle ...

My name is Laura and I am a menace to myself.

The morning was starting off so nicely – everyone slept late and woke rested and in good moods. Jamie asked if he could make a pancake breakfast for everyone, and after we all stopped joking and yelling ‘yes’ at the top our lungs, he moved to pull the pancake mix out of the pantry.

While in the midst of emptying and refilling the dishwasher, Jamie asked me to grab the mixing bowl off the high shelf. I reached for the bowl on tippy toe, and handed it to Jamie across the kitchen island.

As I walked back toward the dishwasher, Jamie asked me to put the skillet on the stove to warm up, and to select the perfect pancake flipper. Remembering the flipper was still in the dishwasher, I stepped backwards and began to fall helplessly into space.

As I had forgotten that I was just unloading the dishwasher not a minute before, my right foot got caught as I stepped back. The two seconds it took me to fall to the floor took roughly two minutes in ultra-slow motion time as my body twisted and contorted this way and that, all the while trying not to land on the open dishwasher door.

My left elbow made contact with the kitchen island first, and as my forearm fell forward I tried to claw at it with all my might, only to have two of my nails bend backwards as they slammed into the flat surface. Half my left torso and back crashed into the cabinets, and I continued to cling to the island as my right butt cheek grazed the pointed corner of the open dishwasher door.

I slowly released my grip and slid down to the floor, missing the open door by centimeters. Jamie and Jim rushed over as I gingerly lowered my arm, carefully bending my wrist, moving my fingers, and rolling my arm in the shoulder socket. Tender, but no sharp pains anywhere.

“Are you okay, Johnny?” Jim joked, referring to a goofy house accident my uncle had a few weeks back.

“Falling just knocked the wind out of me,” I explained, and noticed that taking a deep breath hurt on the left hand side, and my torso muscles felt tight and sore.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jim asked again, helping me up off the floor. I nodded and looked at exactly how close I came to causing myself serious injury, with a full set of steak knives resting in the door-basket utensil slot. The space between the open dishwasher door and the kitchen cabinets is less than four inches.

Jim helped me over to a chair in the family room, and I felt my muscles start to tense up as my left wrist started to get puffy. “God, I wish I had that on video,” I laughed. “I couldn’t get back into that same position if I wanted to.”

I’d love to tell you more, but the muscle relaxants are kicking in and I’m going to enjoy the ride.