I am ever more aware of the responsibilities of being a dad. Since I'm a house dad I do a lot of house work during the day, as is just and proper.
We are having a dozen or so kids over for cake and ice cream for my youngest goddesses' birthday party. We are clutter afflicted but not nearly as bad as we were before hosting the inlaws for Christmas. I had to put some storage boxes up in a cubby above our basement stairs. This required using a nifty little two step ladder we picked up at Loewe's sometime back.
Mickey is the eternal kitten who is now eight, and pushing hard to nine, pounds of Maine Coon feline glorious bushy handsomeness. He decided to four wheel up my shoulder help. He meant well. Or maybe he thought one of his rattle mice ended up there. I don't know.
The stairs are carpeted. The door at the bottom was open.
I wish we had left the carpet in the basement. I wish I hadn't grabbed onto the sill of the cubby as the step ladder shot out from under my feet. I'm almost 5'10" and... big boned. And over forty. The rotation I induced with the snatch was enough to put me face first heading downstairs. I didn't know where the cat went to after he tried to crawl up my back and split my attention between trying to stay on the landing and not mash the cat.
I can walk. 800mg of Ibuprofen and a hot shower has set me right up. I swept and swabbed the kitchen and dining room, but I still don't think I'm going to bowl with the thundering herd.
Life is good.