Earlier this week I Twittered about how I fell down the stairs, and nearly killed myself. This resulted in much laughing, much worry for my well-being, the diagnosis of cracked ribs via Facebook, and frantic international concern from my mother and sister urging me to get x-rays and/or Percocet post-haste. I blamed the fall on a combination of comfortable footwear and good housekeeping. What I didn't mention was that I was standing at the top of my freshly mopped stairs in my fuzzy slippers LEANING OVER DEMONSTRATING TO BOOGS HOW SQUIRMY LOOKS WHEN SHE SLEEPS RIGHT ON THE EDGE OF HER BED AND NEARLY FALLS OUT ONTO THE FLOOR.
Thank you. I will now gladly accept my Almost Darwin Award. Let's call it the Alfred Russel Wallace Award.
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