My sewing machine is sitting on my dining room table currently because I don’t have a special sewing table. At the dining room table last night were two chairs, only one of which is safe enough to sit in. The other one was either not put together correctly or has just worked a screw loose in the 7 years of its chair-life, rendering it wobbly at best and darned near dangerous at worse.
I’ll let you take a guess at which chair I ended up sitting in to sew last night.
All started out well as I sewed the twill tape on the edges of Kalyne’s bodice, the fabric for Dave’s costume churning away in the washing machine in the background. I even got up to answer the phone when it rang and sat back down without incident. But then I made my fatal mistake: I leaned back in the chair to stretch my back, because as I sew I tend to hunch over and get closer and closer to the needle, leaving me looking like Gollum from LOTR by the time the garment is done. “My pressssssshus seams…”
The next thing I remember clearly is being on the floor in terrible pain with the phone pressed to my ear and Scott yelling into it, “Nan? Can you hear me?” I told him to hold on, disentangled myself from the chair, and tried to stand up. It seems that when the leg came out of the chair I pitched backwards, striking my head and then neck on the wall and landing on my tailbone on my hardwood floor. There is also some apparent damage to EVERY STINKING MUSCLE between my hair and my toenails on my left side, as evidenced by the shooting pains in that general area if I move too quickly or try to turn my head to the left.
Dangerprone Daphne does it again! I am reminded of other incidents of equal grace: The time I sat willingly in a hammock at camp hung on one side with rope and on the other with BANDANAS AND DUCT TAPE. The time at Maryville when I walked off the edge of a platform in a play (having missed the stairs completely), causing the stage manager to line the edge of the platform and the stairs with reflective tape so that from above it looked like an airplane tarmack. The summer we lived in England I couldn’t stop falling down the stairs in our house. If there is a way to get hurt doing it, I will find that way.
I’m just wishing I hadn’t left my advil at home. I wonder if my chiropractor takes walk-ins?