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Monday night, I was lying in bed trying to sleep when I realized that I hadn’t turned on the alarm for the house. I was about half-asleep at that point and was just going to let it go, but I told myself if I was paying for the alarm I was going to use the damn thing.

I’ve got a split-level house, so the stairs are divided into two sections with a landing in the middle. I made my way down the first section alright, but I rounded the corner too fast (I tend to go bounding down steps, given my long legs) and when I went to step on the first step of the lower section, my foot didn’t have enough traction (mostly due to the fact that I was wearing socks, I believe) and went flying out from underneath me.

This resulted in me starting to fall not so much on my posterior, but more on my back, given the momentum of my foot flying out from under me and the slope of the stairway. I instinctively tried to grab something to slow or stop my fall, and my left hand managed to find the handrail that’s bolted to the wall. Sadly, it was apparently not designed to support the entire weight of a person my size, and the lower fastening point came off the wall and slammed to the floor at almost the precise moment I did.

After a prolonged utterance of a four-letter word that starts with “f” and rhymes with “duck” and then laughing at what a klutz I am, I got up (happy to not be paralyzed), set the alarm, and went back to bed with a slightly throbbing back.