Have a nice trip. See you next fall.

Yesterday I did something I haven't done in a very long time. And no, it wasn't write copy someone wanted to read. You're so predictable.

What I did was fall flat on my ass.

It was bound to happen. With two kids, two dogs and all the equipment that comes with them, it's no wonder the house is a virtual minefield most of the time. I would've said obstacle course, but obstacles can be overcome. In a minefield, you always have to be in a state of high alert.

Anyway, we have two extremely comfortable chairs in the living room. Right now they're covered in the powder blue slipcovers. Those are the ones we have on them when we're not using the floral ones. Clearly I lost the slipcover battle, which explains why we don't have the Elvis in Hawaii slipcovers. Or the ones with the cowboys and fire engines.

I might be getting off topic here.

Anyway, I was sitting in one of our comfy living room chairs, working on my laptop doing extensive, in-depth research into the topic of my next blogpost: Survivability Tactics & Probabilities and the Implications Of The Thermonuclear Threat.

That or I was watching Between Two Ferns. I can't remember.

At any rate, I got up to do something, and as I did I was closing my laptop and not looking down. Which was bad news for me, because there was a musical instrument in its case on the floor in front of me. My foot caught it, I lost my balance and went careening off a low bookshelf into a wall, involuntarily pirouetting like Baryshnikov and falling like a redwood all while trying desperately not to drop the laptop.

Unfortunately, not having my hands available to help right the ship, I went down like a ton of bricks. Fortunately I had a hardwood floor to cushion my fall.

The good news is I managed to stop the laptop from crashing to the floor. I was also able to hold my neck in such a way that my head didn't slam against the floor. The bad news is I'm feeling it this morning. I'm sore, scraped and bruised (which also happens to be the name of my law firm).

Having kids - well, teenagers - in the house, one thing I always notice is how resilient they are. They heal fast from almost everything: colds, injuries, hurt feelings, bad parenting. I however do not heal that fast. I fully anticipate hurting for a couple weeks while my body figures out what the hell I was thinking trying to get out of a chair.

So for the next few days, it's going to be ice packs, heating pads and Neosporin. And as long as I don't look to far to the right, my neck doesn't remind me how sore it is.

I've heard a rumor that, in some homes, there are actually dedicated spaces where you can store your belongings so they're out of the way and don't pose a risk to people walking in the house. But I'm not falling for it.