...and the stairs won.
Some memories came rushing back about a half hour ago. Now I didn't say they were GOOD memories.
Let me retrace my story for you.
I was walking down the stairs tonight and my feet came out from under me. I then proceeded to see the ceiling as I fell to the floor. Luckily it was only the bottom four. I fell on my OTHER shoulder (the good one) and now have Advil in me to alleviate the aches. So in the, oh, 30 seconds of falling, I re-lived 5 years of my life. See, I wore braces on my legs at night for the first 5 years to deal with my feet turning in. We had a bi-level home at the time and beautiful wood floors. I became intimately acquainted with those wood floors during my early years. Let's just say my feet did not cooperate like they should have. I had black eyes in more of my pictures than not. Cute little blond girl with a big black eye. So darling! Sooo, as I was falling those looong 30 seconds, Plop, ugh, ow!, I distinctly remember falling the WHOLE flight of stairs head over feet when I was just a tiny little thing.
Why must the stairs always win?