"What?!"
"She didn't tell you?"
"No..." I replied. "What happened?"
"She was walking across the driveway and fell over and hit her head on the ground?"
"WHAT?! She just fell?"
"Yeah, here, talk to her."
"I did NOT just fall," Mom says, "I tripped over your father's garage shed thing for his damn Miata."
"You tripped over a garage?"
"Yeah, there's this two inch high lip where it attaches to the ground, then there's a bolt sticking up. My sneaker got caught on the bolt and I fell and hit my head on the cement."
"Did you go to the doctor?"
"No, I'm going tomorrow. Here's your father."
[Random computer chatter deleted]
"Okay," says I, "Go take care of your wife's head."
"She told you about that?"
Pause. "No, you did."
"I told you about my head?" he asks.
"YOUR head?"
"Yeah, I hit my head too."
"Jeezus Christ, what's wrong with you two? Did you fall?"
"No, I was stuck on the toilet."
Pause. "Excuse me?" asks I.
"You know, when your butt gets sweaty and you just stick there. So I launched myself forward to try to get up and bashed my head on the towel bar. Had to clean the blood off the wall."
"Oh... my... god..." is all I can say between the tears of laughter rolling down my face.
"And that's not the first time it's happened."
Just as a random note, my dad ALREADY has a $33,000 plastic skull from a horseback riding accident... and yes, days like this are par for the course in my family.
