“Remoted” – Workday 100 /Day 136 (Thursday)

As the clock approached 11:00 am, when thoughts of lunch sometimes start to creep in, the dogs were on their 512^th trip outside. This is a rough estimate, of course. I haven’t actually counted. Not today, anyway. Often the routine is, two dogs go out, one comes in. Then, when I get just deep enough back into work for it to be annoying, the other one barks to come in. As an attempt at being a good neighbor, I don’t let the dogs stay out barking, and usually go outside right away to usher them back inside.

This morning, while heading out to respond to the summons and open the gate for Sir Winston, Canine Overlord, there was a tiny misstep. My stupid flip flop sandal slid on the stairs and I skidded down them on my butt. Between the annoying noise and the danger, I generally don’t believe in flip flops except for at the beach.

The ass-skid seems to happen at least once a summer. This is the fourth summer at my house, and now the fourth summer sliding on my ass down the outside stairs. Usually, it happens during the week I’m home on staycation, so I’m a bit ahead of schedule this year. Like always, it frigging hurt.

The shoes tried to kill me. Again.

Luckily, I’m finally prepared for such events and pulled out the freezer pack to sit on. Before I did that, though, I had to lay down on the couch due to feeling dizzy and like I would barf. This was something I wasn’t dismissing, having passed out enough times to know the signs and the potential of what might come next. The last thing needed was a concussion from passing out and hitting the floor, or maybe a counter on the way down. The dogs followed me to the couch and stayed by my side. After a minute I felt better, and it was time to resume the normal daily schedule.

For some reason, the ride down the stairs always starts with my right foot skidding out and ends with a hard landing to the right. If things continue to follow the usual pattern, there will be a giant purple bruise across the right side of my butt for the next few weeks. It will be tender for a while, and then it will all be forgotten, probably until next summer. Especially if I manage to hide the killer shoes.