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Yeouch. I fell off a ladder this afternoon.
Awful moment when you realise you’re falling and you think: that’s it, I’m going to die. What with this being a ladder perched at the top of two unlit flights of stairs, and me being completely out of control. And then I manage to land without tumbling or buckling, and somehow I manage to stop the big, heavy, metal cabinet I was holding from getting dented, by cleverly cushioning it’s landing with my shin (note to self: the instinctive response is the bloody stupid response). There’s an audible crunch and I think, oh shit, I’ve must’ve broken my leg. Must’ve.
And then, realising it’s not broken, somehow, and I’m not dead, somehow. At which point there’s a split-second window of happiness before the pain hits.
So: yeouch. I’ve got a bruise the size of God. But! I’m not yet dead or otherwise snapped into bits. And I got bought a six-pack for saving the cabinet like that.
The happy ending is what makes it. |
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