You read that right: I almost died.
Not to sound dramatic or anything.
It snowed last week or maybe it rained, but in any case the yard has become a patchy ice rink.
CreamCheese gets a burst of energy in the evening and if she's not chased around for a little while she never falls asleep. I took her out and we ran around for approximately 45 seconds before I slipped.
I fell harder than I have ever fallen before. My hip hit the ground first, then my knee, then ankle, then shoulder, then FACE, then knee and ankle again.
I hit my FACE on the ground! Like some common face hitter! My money-maker! My pride and joy! MY FACE!! It bounced! That's how people die!
I tried to get up, but couldn't move. Puppy excitedly jumped on my near-lifeless body, attempting to lick my face (oh, my face!).
After a minute of rolling around, stunned and very cold, I managed to get to my feet. My entire right side wasn't working, but I had to get back to the house. It's the last time I walk out the door without bringing my phone; it would have been hours before anyone missed me and came looking.
I dragged myself to the house, shrieking "INJURY" repeatedly, hoping someone would appear with a wheelchair or maybe some crutches. No one heard me and no one came to my aid.
When I got back into the house I moaned a loud and pathetic "OHHHHHHHHH!", which was at last acknowledged and my mother came to me at once. I was sat down on the couch and brought enough ice packs and pain relievers for a squad of injured Me's.
I woke this morning, and the coffee smelled better, my shower left me cleaner, the birds sang more sweetly.
Those are the sorts of things us people who almost died recognize.
