9.8 meters per second squared

I had some kind of crazy-ass dream this morning. All I remember is seeing something sort of running at me, like some kind of cat - to - raccoon - sized animal. I lifted my foot to kick it away.

And the next thing I know, I'm awake and falling to the floor. I must've kicked myself right over the edge of the bed.

That's right. I fell out of the bed. Full on, crashed to the floor, fell out of the bed.

What am I, six?

It was a long way down, too...our bed is kind of high. I hit the floor pretty hard.

My first thought was "BWWWAAAAHAHAHAHAA! I just fell out of the bed!"

My second thought was "WAAAAAH!!!" I think I must've hit the bed frame on the way down, because the back of my right hip and the side of my leg were throbbing all of a sudden.

Then I sort of went back and forth between laughter and whining.

The cat came in to see what the racket was all about, looking all suspicious and semi-menacing until he saw that it was just me, being a complete dumbass.

MB slept through the whole thing, even the part where I crawled back into bed, whining because seriously? OUCH. OUCH OUCH OUCH. It was one of those insidious pains that didn't hurt at all at first, and suddenly was really, really insistently there. I may have even whimpered a little. I know, I know...but being a badass is hard when you've just woken up in mid-plummet from your yard-high bed and your cat is looking at you quite smugly and your husband is not awake to give sympathy.

I guess I could've kept this whole thing a secret, and he'd never ever know that his wife is a huge spaz. But I tell him everything, and besides...falling out of the bed, at my age? Absurd comedy gold, right? And I was going to spill about the whole thing on Teh Internet anyway.


It wouldn't be funny if I'd hit my head or broken a bone or--God forbid--landed on the poor cat. But since I didn't, it's pretty damn amusing.



Also amusing:


"Return to honor: Billy the goat stands on parade with the troops of the 1st Battalion, The Royal Welsh, near Limassol, Cyprus. Billy was reinstated to the rank of lance corporal after an impeccable parade performance, following a demotion in June after his poor display ruined a parade to mark Queen Elizabeth II's birthday."


And:

According to the Agatha Christie-izer, my NaNoWriMo novel should be called "The Secret of the Accursed iPod," or maybe "The Evil Unknown Mineshaft." Brilliant.