A danger to myself and those around me

Over a 36-hour period this weekend, I managed to:

* Damn near gut myself by falling directly onto the corner of a bedside table. I was reading quietly in bed, all calm and peaceful, when the phone rang. As I have a Pavlovian reflex where I must answer the phone when it rings, come what may, I immediately leapt out of bed and headed toward the phone. Unfortunately, my feet got tangled en route, and instead of stopping to clear them of the sheets, I pressed forward to sad results. I now have a lovely shiner mid-abs.


* Kick the dog square in the nose while I was trying to step over him. The poor dog was asleep at the time, which is akin to running into a telephone pole (i.e., no one to blame but yourself, loser).

* Poke the cat in the eye when I bent down to pet him. My guilty conscience says he's been squinting reproachfully at me ever since. Or he might just be doing his usual glare. Hard to say.

* This clumsy rampage finally shuddered to a halt Monday morning (at least, GOD, I hope it's over, knock wood). I went into my home office, all ready to start off another busy work week, and realized that my ceiling light was off for some reason. I reached up, tugged (gently! I swear!) on the chain to turn it on...and brought the entire lamp shade down to the floor, where it immediately shattered and sent glass slivers to the four corners of the world. The cat had finally forgiven me for poking him in the eye and was hanging out by my ankles; this sent him winging to the opposite end of the house.

Things seem to have calmed down since, but I'm not entirely certain this phase has passed. Until it does, if The Texan were smart, he'd steer clear of the mess.