Megan and I brought blankets, pillows, etc. with us to Lu’s party, in case we wanted to stay overnight. We didn’t, in the end, and my pillow was my undoing.
I brought it upstairs on my way to bed, but dropped it on the landing at the top of the stairs. Bending over to pick it up, I tripped over a wayward cord and fell to the floor beneath, with a resounding crash.
It was about seven feet, and I managed to break the house, though, amazingly, I didn’t break Self.
When I got up, I saw the hole in the floorboards, plus two long cracks. Rob came over the next day and repaired the hole, so it’s even better than it was (he also hid the cord catalyst), and Mark is going to put up a railing to stop any further gravity-related experiments. I honestly don’t know who was more horrified, Mark or me. I felt like the Worst Tenant Ever, smashing a big hole in the floor after living here about a week, and Mark felt terrible for not putting up the railing sooner. We all knew it was dangerous, but we reckoned without the powers of Calamity Suzy.
So other than being incredibly embarrassed and spectacularly bruised, I’m OK. Megan says her bruises were worse when she fell down the stairs at our brother’s old house a few years ago, right in front of his appalled eyes. But now the bruises and pulled muscles are keeping the housemaid’s knees company, I still can’t do much of anything. I couldn’t go Trick or Treating with Jessica, for example. But there’s always next year!