Loose Ends: Super Klutz
Just call me Super Klutz. One minute I was slowly descending our front steps, the ones I seldom use because the garage is at the back and the steps there have proper handrails. The next minute I was sprawled on the concrete steps, feeling foolish and hoping that the stinging skin on my butt, sort of like having a gravel rash, didn’t mean that my jeans were shredded or that I could expect blood.
Damn legs! They’d stopped propelling me forward, so I fell backwards on the stairs. How embarrassing! Fortunately it was around nine in the morning so there was no one around to witness my fall except Hubby who heard my annoyed squeal, came out to help me up, and the friend waiting in her car to give me a ride to our quilting retreat. . . . contd.
