I fell on the stairs this evening. Not on the way down. On the way up.

I am now sporting a rather large knot on my right shin and bruises on my right leg, right arm, and of all places the middle finger on my left hand. Trying to catch myself before I fell just didn't work out very well.

I can hear my friend T's cry of frustration all the way from Pennsylvania: "You shouldn't be living in a house with stairs!" Perhaps there is some validity in her concern. However, this is my house. I cannot really do anything about that right now. I have tried to be more careful about going down my stairs. I just didn't think I needed to worry about walking up them.

Despite my throbbing leg, I did hasten outdoors to get a quick mow in what has become a rare sunny day of late. The rain keeps coming down. As a consequence, the grass keeps growing rather quickly.

I did refrain from edging, even though a mown and edged yard is far more visually satisfying than a merely mown one is.

One who falls up the stairs ought not to fret over the shaggy appearance of the edge of her yard. She should rest upon her couch and be thankful nothing was broken and thankful that with the lawn mown she can sleep away the holiday weekend in pursuit of much rest.