Saturday morning as I was sitting in the dining room I heard a loud thud come from the back of the house. A few minutes later the hubby appeared around the corner to announce that I had managed to leave an usual amount of water on the bathroom floor after my shower. Apparently the loud thud was the hubby taking a fall. I felt horrible and immediately asked if he was okay to which he responded “not really”. I apologized for the water all over the floor (not sure how I did that) and spent the rest of the day feeling bad for hubby who was having some aches and pains especially in his tailbone. Of course, even with someone getting hurt we can’t seem to avoid finding the humor in most situations around here. We joked about how it’s generally me who falls or runs into something or otherwise injures myself in some stupid way. The poor hubby was unable to perform his usual Saturday night duties, you know…. taking out the garbage. The next morning I asked him how he was doing after his fall. His response was: “Not that great—I think I need a donut”. As you might expect my reply to that was: “Well Honey, I’d love a donut too, but you know we’re on a diet.”
Thank you and be sure to tip your waitresses… I’ll be here all week.