Fall

No, this is not a post about how lovely the air smells this time of year, or the wonderful family celebrations to be had in November, or how the trees go so quickly from lush and thick and green to spindly and twiggy and stark in the seeming blink of an eye.

No... unfortunately it's about a different kind of fall - the kind I had today, down the 5 or so steps that lead to the garage, while I was holding Logan. Awesome!

I actually have no idea how it happened. I must have made the exact same trip - no pun intended - down the stairs at least a hundred times since we've moved into the house. Logan goes in my left arm, my purse in my right, and we walk down the stairs. Easy peasy.

But today something happened on either the last stair or the ground and the next thing I knew Logan and I were flying through the air. I somehow managed to prevent Logan's poor little head from smashing into the concrete floor of the garage - he just skimmed it. It seems like I mostly landed on my knees, with my feet under me, but my top half kept going forward when I hit the ground. That's what made Logan's head almost hit the floor. Ugh.

It was awful. I had to actually sit there, in the position I landed in, still holding Logan, for a few minutes to make sure we were both okay and regain my composure before I felt like I could stand up. Once I was pretty sure that neither of us had broken any bones or needed stitches or had concussions, I sat Logan down on the floor and got up. My knees and left ankle were sore, but not seriously hurt.

What an ordeal! My knees still ache and I've got some good bruises developing. I have no idea how I didn't sprain my left ankle, as it was twisted under me when I landed.

As I was examing myself, I realized that the left knee of my jeans had torn. This is going to sound so superficial, especially in light of the post I wrote last night about rich people and homeless people and the idea of taking things for granted, but I was really sad when I saw my jeans were torn. They're not my favorite jeans, but they're probably my most expensive ones, and this is only the second or third time I've worn them. I'm not upset that the jeans themselves are torn, I'm upset because I wasted money on jeans that are now torn. Does that make sense?

Anyway, here are some pictures from the crime scene -

That's the skid mark where my left knee hit the floor and then skidded forward. It's blue, from the aforementioned pricey jeans. I wonder if the value of my house just went up, because the garage floor now has expensive jean residue on it?


That's the hole in my jeans. I couldn't decide which picture made the hole look more impressive so I included both. :)