bottle in front of me vs. frontal lobotomy?
I fell down the spiral staircase from the third floor on thursday night and busted the inside of my lower lip. on the bright side, it's like free collagen for a couple of days, and I can put my eucalyptus plumping gloss on the shelf. on the other hand, I have a busted lip and a sprained nose. (it feels that way.) I spoke to rob about it and inquired as to whether he'd heard the commotion, and he replied, "oh, the other night around 3 when it sounded like someone pushed a water heater down the stairs?"
"ahh-ha. that would have been--"
he pointed at my bruised arm.
"me. yes."
rob continued, "yeah, I wasn't sure if it was an intruder or something so I just leaned over and locked my door. as if that dinky little hardware store lock was going to deter an intruder. maybe just keep them busy long enough to get my rocket ship fired up."
"yes, erstwhile I could've been lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairwell with a broken neck."
"it could've been an intruder. but I'm glad you didn't break your neck."
"me too."
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