This morning I accidentally invented a new extreme sport.
First thing in the morning, walking down the stairs in the dark with a half-full can of diet Barq's in my hand, I stepped on a book that one of us (foolishly) had left on the stairs (Whale Hunt in the Desert, a good read) and in a slow-mo moment of slapstick and poise slid down the rest of the stairway, one foot on the slippery dust-cover of the book, one foot in the air, one arm holding onto the can of soda, and one arm flailing wildly. I landed on my butt at the foot of the stairs, fully prepared for something to be broken, sprained, or badly bruised, but all my thoughts were on how terrible it must have been to have sprayed soda all over the place. I picked myself up, ready to cry or moan in pain, but was surprised to realize, half-refusing to accept, that I was just fine. Completely unharmed, half-crushed can still gripped in my right hand, I carefully looked around and realized that nary a drop of soda had been spilled. Amazing!
Try this at home, if you dare, oh foolish ones.
My success at this impromptu sporting event is all the more surprising because of my impaired sense of balance. A bout with Meniere's disease in my early 20s knocked out most of my sense of balance in my left ear (along with most of my hearing in that ear). It seems so very unlikely to have held my balance as I slid down those steps, sufficiently to stay upright, unharmed, drink unspilled. Bwahaha!
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