So Greg was sick and I guess at some point he needed to get up in the middle of the night to get water. Now, I'm used to finding him on the couch in the morning because he wakes up all the time when he's sick, so it didn't surprise me when a few weeks ago I find him there. I make coffee, get Charli off to school and go to get Georgi up and he's sitting up and says, "Hey." I'm thinking it's the term of endearment that we're known for around here so I say, "Hey", right back at him and start up the stairs. "Hey," he says louder and the loving wife I am who has things to do says, "What?" "I think I broke my ankle." What?
Apparently on the way down the stairs at 3am, (the stairs that are always cluttered with "stuff" that I put there so people will take it up on their way and never do and I just happened to have cleaned off the night before) Greg fell. "How?" You know, cause that's me. Not, "Are you okay?" No, I want to know how this happened. I do it to the kids too, I'm a sympathetic soul I tell ya. Well, wouldn't you know I must have missed a little stuffed animal and he "thinks" he hit it with his heel, at which point both his feet went toes down into the next stair and he landed on his face. Face didn't hurt, just the ankle. And it was the 2nd to the last stair, not all the way at the top. Thank God for small things, huh?
Luckily after the trip to urgent care and x-rays he didn't break it. But he did tear ligaments, which is not better. He was healing nicely until this last weekend when he went golfing. Second to the last hole and oops, turns on it wrong.
I got a call from a neighbor who's been leaving her vacuum at the top of the stairs waiting for one of her kids to bring it down now for about a week and after hearing about Greg, decided she'd go ahead and bring it downstairs. I've been doing better about keeping the stairs cleaned up too. I'm not sure we're doing the right thing because the kids should be cleaning up their stuff but who wants a broken husband, so there we are. However I am not allowed to live down the fact that my poor husband was lying on the tile cussing up a storm at 3am and I slept through it. Oops. Love ya honey!
Monday, March 16, 2009
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