Falling in the Garage

I decided to make spaghetti for dinner. The pasta was stored in the garage refrigerator, so I bravely struggled through the mess left from replacing the side door. Balancing on the bottom step, I reached wa-a-ay over the bucket of gardening tools and opened the freezer.

I chose to fall at this point. I thought about Crystal’s fall. Somehow, in managing to keep from falling completely in the floor, I struck my wrist on something HARD. I then remembered that Crystal’s leg had been broken. No! Not me! I NEED my right wrist…

Meanwhile, back in the house…

Hubby looked up and asked Middlest, “Did your mother just say something?”

“Yes,” she calmly replied.

“Go find out what she needs!” he yelled at her.

At this point, I returned to the laundry room. Having overheard his command, I explained the situation. “I smacked my wrist when I was falling. I’m sorry, I can’t reach the spaghetti and I don’t think I can use my wrist right now. Please try to go get it for me.” I went straight to the kitchen freezer and pulled out the bag of Japanese sweet rice. Rice, unlike green peas, doesn’t get mushy as it thaws and can be re-frozen with little problem. We use the same bag of sweet rice for all our boo-boos.

Hubby returned to the kitchen with the found spaghetti. He launched into lecture mode. “Your mother might have needed help. You should have went to see what she needed without me telling you,” he told Middlest.

“I heard what she said,” Middlest insisted quietly.

“She said, ‘Damn, that hurt!’”

Don’t you just love kids? Maybe next time I need to scream something about dying? Or hound dogs sitting on my face.