Talk about aging! Here’s a somewhat comical little story for you.
Last night I was lying in bed, barely awake and my stomach started growling. Well I’m certainly not going to get up and go eat something that late. Now way, my stomach can simply deal with it.
As my belly consistantly continues to argue through incessant growling, I was annoyed and I finally give in.
It’s dark in the house, I didn’t bother putting on my glasses because hey, I know where I’m going!
Half asleep, I shuffled myself into the kitchen.
I open the fridge and instantly squint because I’m blinded by the tiny bulb that lights the path to what I’m seeking. I grab the carton of almond milk and take two giant swigs. That should tide my growling belly over until morning.
I shut the fridge, spin around and head back toward the bedroom. Not able to see well, due to the fridge light, I run smack into the corner cabinet. Stunned, I back up and shift left and head straight. I kicked something heavy on the floor. I kicked it HARD. It stops me, dead in my tracks. OW. What…the…heck? My first reaction is to lift my leg and grab my foot to console by baby toe. I lose my balance and have to fight to find the counter and grab it. I dont recall leaving anything on the floor? But with that kick, my pinky toe cried “weee weee weee” all the way to the bedroom. Limping.
I decided since I was up I might as well make a pit stop into the bathroom before snuggling back into bed.
Still blinded by the light, I didn’t back up far enough and caught the edge of the toilet. Thankfully our toilet has its own “room” and the “room” is not very big, so the wall caught me before I hit the floor. And I hit the wall HARD.
I shuffled my way back into the bedroom, pain in my toe, shoulder aching, now I am swinging my hands around looking for the foot board because I’ve tagged it with my hip bone before. And that HURTS.
I felt my way to my side of the bed where I crawl in back to safety.
This house is dangerous. Let’s just set that straight. Last night was a reminder of the little things that I recall when I worked at the hospital and people would come in for broken bones.
I’m going to be one of those statistics. I will be one of those little old ladies who get admitted into the hospital for a broken something and it will be because of doing a stupid something. I just know it.
Next time, my belly can cry and groan all it wants. It will stay hungry and it will like it.