Here I am again after missing my blogs last week. We are up to the eyes in decorating, at long last. So as you might have guessed, today’s blog is about decorating – and falling – which seems to be a new hobby here!
I am so relieved that Kevin now has time to do some painting. I must say that, for me, I’ve been very patient. With our upstairs lounge done he’s raring to go on other rooms.
On Sunday afternoon he started doing the upstairs bedroom (all the rest are downstairs) and managed to get the emulsion done. There’s just a bit of gloss to do, tidy up and to get straight and that’s another room done.
Much to my surprise, he got more dust sheets out and started covering the staircase. I had all on not to jump up in the air, I was so pleased. He had a break between the lounge and bedroom so I was pleasantly surprised when he started draping up. The upshot of that is that after I’d gone down to bed, hubby later came into the bedroom and said ‘have you heard me, I’ve just fallen down the stairs’.
Crash, Bang, Wallop
Much puzzled I did wonder why I hadn’t heard the bang and the inevitable cursing, especially as our bedroom is so near to the staircase. There I was thinking he might need an ambulance and first aid, when he enlightened me that he had only slipped on the top few stairs to the half landing where they turn.
Ever one for a bit of drama, he went on to tell me that he had slid on the dust sheets and fallen onto the half landing where the steps turn a corner. After continually telling him that I hadn’t heard a thing, so that was why I hadn’t run out to mop his brow, he looked quite disgruntled. The morning after he was busy telling me how much his arms hurt, bless him, because he’d fallen and no doubt wanted to let us know that he had slipped a bit.
As a result, the next thing I heard was a load of hammering noises coming from the staircase and lo and behold, Kevin was nailing the dust sheets down on the steps, because as he said, he was helping the elderly. I did wonder who the elderly were until I realised he meant us!!!
Falling from a Dizzy Height
Talking of falling, as you may know I have my own balance problems and tend to easily go up-sa-daisy onto the floor. Well a few days before the staircase incident I went flying again. Luckily I didn’t have far to fall as I fell off a small, three legged kitchen stool – and I mean small!
I had been tidying some kitchen cupboards and, being a midget, needed it to reach higher up. Now you might think I fell from up there onto the hard tiled floor but no, I was sitting on the blooming thing when I fell off it!
It takes some skill to fall off a stool that is so small, so I must be more skilful than I thought. There I was, surrounded by all the things I had taken out of the bottom of the cupboard as in my wisdom I’d thought I might as well sit on it to put things back. Of course, my knees were creaking like a piece of old wood, so I thought I was being clever by sitting on the stool instead of trying to get on the floor.
How I managed to come off it is still a mystery to me. But I slowly and gracefully fell to the right side of me and threw my arms out to save myself. Of course, I was dopey enough to fall on my very painful thumbs and hands, which took the weight of my body when I then gave up throwing my arms into the air, and I landed unceremoniously with a bang!
Luckily my dearest and nearest weren’t anywhere in sight, so I extracted myself from juice cartons, various bottles of juice to dilute etc and all the rest that we put away in cupboards. I thought that if I kept quiet I wouldn’t get the usual ‘mum what have you done now, it’s not the time to break anything with the hospitals in the situation they are in’. They don’t seem to get that I don’t throw myself onto the floor deliberately, I just do it. But the day after when I was stiff in my arms and they were aching even more than ever, (giggling) I confessed it might be because I had fallen about six inches onto the floor!
No Broken Bones
The look on their faces was priceless and they all said ‘oh my goodness what next’. It seems daft to do that. But my mum once fell off a similar size stool when she was washing her kitchen walls. She was stood on hers at the time, whereas I was bent double. My poor mum had to go to hospital where she was found to have cracked the top of her arm all the way down.
She was in an awful lot of pain for a long long time but they couldn’t do anything as they don’t pot the top of the arm into the shoulder. I saw the xray and it was a corker, a complete slit in the bone. Amazing, although not for her or me, as I ended up looking after her. Not that I minded but it just told me how easy it was to have an accident even from the dizzying heights of a six inch stool.
Jane threatened to order some bubble wrap to completely cover me up but the idea of walking around like a spacewoman or Michelin man didn’t appeal. I shall just have to try harder to not go flying through the air before I end up in real trouble.
If I’m not falling I’m continually cracking my head on the edge of the kitchen work tops as I stand up, so it’s a wonder I’m still in one piece. Still it all adds to the rich tapestry of life, or so they say!
