TIMBER! I'm Falling In Tub

Gotta give props to Patty Loveless. She did it first, this little song. Not about a tub, though. That's where we differ. Her song was about love. Not a big green triangle tub in her master bathroom. There's no actual video on that song. It was her first #1 hit. I found that out when I looked it up. And also that Patty is cousins to Loretta Lynn and Crystal Gayle! Her dad was brother to Loretta's mom. Small world, old country music.

 

Anyhoo... we're not here today for a discography of country music. We're here to talk about another misfortune of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. Because it's ALL ABOUT HM, you know! 

 

Saturday morning, and by morning, I mean 1:00 pm, I was walking from the shower, freshly clean, across the master bathroom rug to the sink. It's a distance of about 10 feet. It's a big bathroom. As always, I walked slowly. My knees stiffen up while standing in the shower. I take my time to get moving again.

WHOA! 

My left knee collapsed! That's currently the good knee. It turned to spaghetti! My knee was like a tree that had been chopped with a hatchet until it was unstable enough to topple in that direction. I flailed! I windmilled! I must have looked like a much thicker version of one of those air tubey guys used to attract attention at used-car lots, swaying and bending and swaying some more, like I was having a seizure of sorts!

Lucky for me, the big green triangle tub was on my left, about mid-thigh high. I grasped at the edge to stop my fall. My hand hit a plastic box of baby wipes and a giant plastic powder container. The wipes shot into the empty tub, the powder flew across the tile. I said I was flailing! My right hand darted out like a frog's tongue, and grasped the corner of the sink vanity. Whew! Catastrophe averted.

My adrenaline was pumping for a good 15 minutes after that little episode. My knee didn't hurt at all. It was just a temporary malfunction. Like a trick knee, I guess. Now I know what old people were talking about. 

 

What a relief that I didn't go down to the cold, cold tile. Or even worse, topple into the tub, ample-rumpus-over-teakettle! Where my cries for help to The Pony (Farmer H was at his Storage Unit Store) would have gone unanswered. Not only because he doesn't really care about helping people, but because he was at the other end of the Mansion, door closed, headphones in, listening to music while playing computer games.

I was extra careful the rest of the day, measuring out my steps with grabbable objects in mind if my knee tried to play magician again.

Getting old it terrible. But better than NOT getting old...