My house is full of baseball mitts, socks and athletic supporters………..and no I do not mean fans.
As I was doing my 800th load of laundry today, I was carrying a basket full of towels to the bathroom downstairs, On the stairs was one of the aforementioned baseball mitts. Behind the gigantic stack of towels I couldn’t see the mitt, and ever so gracefully did a swan dive from the second stair to the bottom, rolling and thumping until I landed rear-end up on our basement floor.
Cooper, ever the gentleman came rushing to my aid, “Moooooom, what was that noise? You’re being really loud.” Uh thanks Cooper…
I crawled up the stairs, and proceeded to load my crew of boys into the car, so I could go and pick up my niece from basketball practice. Gas pedal + Really sore leg = REALLY BAD IDEA.
We made it (only by God’s grace, and a strange amount of cars driving on the sidewalks.) After picking her up, I drove myself to the doctor…. After an exam, and lots of tears (not mine, I may have punched the doctor when she grabbed my knee) I’m scheduled for an MRI, wobbling on a set of crutches, wrapped in an ace bandage, doped up on pain killers and have in my possession a recipe for homemade ice packs.
For the next few days, I am couch bound, and unable to drive…..lovely. So while I sit here wallowing, I am officially on strike. NO LAUNDRY, ever again. I’ve always said that hell looks an awful lot like a laundromat and today my suspicions were confirmed.