Late last night, about 11:00, I was doing laundry and working on the computer, and I went upstairs to see what Bob was doing. I had taken off my jeans to put them in the washer (every time I do that I remember a joke I read in Reader's Digest when I was a kid):

A woman is down in her basement doing laundry. She decides she might as well put her clothes in the laundry, and there isn't anyone home anyway, so she strips and puts everything in the washer. Then she sees her son's football helmet down there, and knows he's going to need it later and she should take it upstairs, so she puts it on her head so she doesn't forget it.

The meter reader comes up to the house to read the electric meter, which is right by the basement window. He glances in, sees the naked lady wearing a helmet, does a doubletake, then taps on the window and calls out, "Lady, I sure hope your team wins!"

I bought a very cool straw hat yesterday, and I put that on, so I was wearing underwear and a t-shirt and my hat, and I went upstairs and walked by the office door and peeked in.

Bob was sitting in the recliner with Pyewacket on his lap, and I just smiled in at them, and then did a little "walk like an Egyptian" kind of silly thing across the doorway in my hat, then started to go back downstairs to do some more laundry.

And fell down the stairs.

It's been almost three years since I did it the last time. That time it scared me a lot, and I was bruised, but this time I came close to really hurting myself. I fell on my back on a stairtread, and I was afraid for awhile that I might need to go to the hospital.

Bob came running down, of course, and helped me up, and I immediately felt a sharp, almost debilitating pain in my lower back. He walked with me back upstairs, thinking I could lie down on the bed, but I couldn't. I could sit, but I couldn't lie down, and while I was sitting on the edge of the bed, I started to go into shock, I think.

I started to feel clammy and sweaty and nauseated, all at once, and thought I was going to faint. I kind of scooted off the bed and knelt on the floor, and tipped over so my head was close to the floor, and it eventually passed. I couldn't stay like that, though, so I very gingerly got back onto the bed, and was able to lie down on my back, and Bob put a couple of pillows under my knees, which seemed to help the pain.

The only problem was that I was backwards in the bed, with my head at the foot. and I was kind of catty-cornered, with my feet almost hanging off the edge. But every time I tried to move, pain skewered my back. I started to shiver then, so strongly that my teeth were chattering. Bob brought blankets to cover me up, and Pyewacket and Dinah came and curled up next to me, and I fell into an uncomfortable sleep.

Bob came up a little while later to check on me, and started to get another blanket out of the closet--he said he was going to sleep in his chair so he didn't disturb me. I didn't want him to do that, and decided to see if I could flip around and get under the covers. It was a painful struggle, but I did it. He had given me some ibuprofen earlier, so I think maybe it had kicked in by that point.

And I slept.

I woke up at about 6:00 a.m., and while I could still feel the pain, I was able to turn over. I wasn't sure about getting out of bed, though, but thought I'd better try in case I woke up later and had to go to the bathroom--best to know now if I wasn't going to be able to get up.

It hurt, but I did it. I went to the bathroom, and took some more ibuprofen while I was in there, and while it still hurts to walk, and to walk up and down the stairs, I'm mobile.

I tend to forget my surroundings, to be so focused on what's going on inside my head that I forget that there's an actual world outside. I walk around making lists and writing journal entries in my head, thinking of what I need to buy, or an email I need to send to someone, or what I'm going to be doing at work next week, and I don't pay attention to what's going on around me.

Ten days ago I whacked my hand against the wall coming in from work. On Friday I bent over to put on my houseslippers to go outside and get the newspaper, and bonked my forehead against the new upright suitcase that's sitting at the foot of the stairs waiting for next weekend.

That same day, when I got to work I got out of the car, then went around to the passenger (sidewalk) side, opened the door, bent in to pick up my backpack, and slammed my forehead against the doorframe. Same spot I had hit earlier.

Now this. Here's what I think. I think my guardian angel is trying to wake me up, trying to get me to pay attention. Maybe something's going to happen that will require me to react quickly, or maybe it's just a general safely precaution. She's telling me, "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" and it took me nearly two weeks, and falling down the stairs, to hear her.