I spent Sunday evening in my bedroom, sorting through clothes, craft projects and other assorted things that had found their way into my sleeping quarters. Feeling good about the work I had put in, I took a quick look at the kitchen and decided that the sweeping and mopping I usually do, could wait — man was that a bad idea.
On Monday, I sprinted down the hallway in our building (for reasons that will make me seem childish and silly if said out loud) and went to turn the corner back to our loft. My boot gripped the carpet and stayed put, while the rest of my body went a different direction. The end result had me in a pile on the floor, howling for my husband to come give me a hand.
Now my husband has super-hero strength, but I'm not a dainty butterfly, so carrying me back to bed for an ice pack and a call to the doctor wasn't in the cards. After the initial shock had passed, I crawled across the floor, through the foyer, past the laundry, through the kitchen and living room, before I finally made my way onto the sofa.
A quick look at my clothes and I remembered the night before where I had thought, "Nah, it's ok, you've done a ton of work, save the kitchen cleaning for tomorrow." Worst idea ever. Once healed, my new motto will be, clean all that you can today, for you might be crawling across it tomorrow! I had bits of dog fur, crumbs from the nightly meal preparation and best of all — dog toy guts, stuck to my pants and shirt.
Although I'm grateful for the time spent cleaning on Sunday (it means I can use a walker to get around my bed and into the bathroom with ease!), I would have given anything to have spent 5 extra minutes tidying a little bit more! Hind sight is always 20/20, though in retrospect, walking... not running would have eliminated a fractured foot and sprained ankle (making way for clean floors!).