Okay, so I don't have a flesh wound. I do, however, have a bruised foot.
"But wait," you cry. "How can someone as graceful and nimble as you do something like that?"
Sigh. It was late and I was tired.
I was going up to bed and carrying a large basket full of clean, folded laundry. The stairway was dark except for the eye-grating glow of the little fluorescent night-light in the upstairs hallway. When I got to the third step up I noticed something lurking in the shadows along the baseboard above the fifth step. A house centipede.
I'd post a picture, but just looking at them on Google has freaked me out, so I'll spare you. Feel free to Google it yourself.
Anyway, I slowly stepped down one step (backwards, with a loaded laundry basket in my arms, mind you) and thought I was off the stairs entirely. So I lunged a step backwards.
I'm not good at math, but I can tell you that three steps up minus one step down equals two more steps down. I landed hard on the ball of my right foot and almost careened into the moulding around the dining room door.
I didn't drop the laundry, however.
Extraordinarily Patient Dude looked at me like I sprung a second head, but when I explained about the bug, he lived up to his name and disposed of it without complaint. It took him a while to find it since it was deep in the shadows. I must have some sort of Spidey-sense (Centi-sense? Pedey-sense?) because it was very obvious to me.
So, after limping around for a few days, it seemed this morning that the bruise was healed. (Notice how I could have made some sort of pun with the word "heal/heel" since the injury was on my foot. You're welcome.) I rejoiced and took Wee Ninja Girl for a walk in the town park.
So now my foot hurts again and my Achilles tendon is sore for some reason. I guess I'll just have to put it up and sit around for a while.
I'll try to offer it up.