I must be getting clumsy in my old age.
I was cruising along, headed for the back porch at my parent's house, having retrieved my Mom's camera from my car. I took the two steps up to the deck rather quickly, while wearing my trusty Birkenstocks now that I am officially back to Mother Earth status after the wedding and all.
In any event, I should have lifted my right foot 1/4 inch higher than I actually DID, and thus began an interesting journey to get a closer look at the deck. I took four more steps in all, in a kind of twilight zone slow motion.
My brain did it's dead level best to keep my body up to date on current events as they unfolded. The thoughts, after the initial trip, went something like this:
Step one: I think we can recover from this fall. . . steady on!
Step two: There is a slight possibility that the former thought is in error.
Step three: I cannot believe I am making such huge steps and still the deck grows closer!
Step four: Forget about it. You are going DOWN!
BANG!
There I was sprawled on the deck, the stream of thoughts trying to catch up with me. The unfortunate humiliated body was still at the "I think we can recover" thought, so imagine the incongruity of my situation. My optimistic self was observing my prone self and thinking, 'How did we get down HERE? I thought there was HOPE!'
After all my thoughts finally did catch up to my body like railroad cars crashing together in an emergency stop, I decided there was only one response to this ridiculous situation. . . I started laughing. I dusted myself off and headed into the house where I proceeded to tell the tale to my poor unsuspecting mother, complete with pantomime and sound effects. Thus sending her racing for the bathroom in fits of laughter, hoping to avoid the embarrassment of loss of bladder control. . .Weak bladders run in her family.
I am happy to say that except for a few sore places, I am none the worse for wear.
I suppose I could add 'slapsick pratfalls' to my resume' now, though I imagine there's not much call for them in an office setting.
Besides, if I was going to do that for a living, I want pillows to land on.
(I'll make a note of it there, Grace)
Your compassion is underwhelming.
(Hey, it's my job.)