The first was on Monday night. I'd gone to Sprout and April's house after the whole Salad Underground fiasco. They live on the third floor of a big house. To make a long story short, when I was leaving, I stepped out of the door to their floor, into the darkened stairwell, expecting to find a landing there before the stairs. There isn't one. So I careened, screaming, down the blackened stairs. By the time April managed to get the light turned on I'd fallen halfway down and had stopped myself from falling any farther by grasping onto the railing. Good times.
The embarrassing aftermath? Once I got outside, I realized I'd dropped my cell phone somewhere in all the excitement, and had to go back up there. Mortifying.
At any rate, I mention that because today it happened again. This time wasn't as bad. It happened here, at work. I was walking behind Mary Beth, who (I think) stepped back just as I was passing behind her, and our feet got tangled up and I went down, face first. Thankfully I always wear kneepads at work (because of all the crawling around I do), so I really didn't get injured this time. I am still sore from Monday though.
Not the graceful swan of a daughter my Mother had intended.