My roller coaster ride has not been fun and I have not yet been to the County Fair. Rather, for a few weeks, I have been up and down inside and out. And we have been having our two bathrooms updated, including switching out a fall-prone deep tub for a walk in shower in our master bath.
My primary doctor actually coined the "roller coaster" phrase for me last week and it fits. Right now I am on a plateau and hope that's where I will stay for awhile. I don't care for sharing all the grisly details so I won't and, heck, who wants to read that anyway. But here is a funny (after the fact) story that has come out of it that I will call "Tripping Over Tile."
So, on Tuesday, the tile crew (great guys from Arizona Restoration Experts), left a box of the 1 inch floor tile on the floor by the new shower. It's important to note that we had Italian tile installed--super heavy and durable. My husband was preoccupied all evening with the floor and drain. He had asked (and they complied) to have the drain and part of the floor redone after the first layout had too much of a slope to suit him. He's a safety professional and tough project manager which is important to the story.
So he's looked at the floor and drain multiple times. We go to bed. I am exhausted from two days of stomach pain, the doctor's visit and referral to GI specialist. (The ending of that episode is pending, but with samples of a medication, I am feeling better). About 1 a.m., I wake up to go to the bathroom. To get to it, I have to walk past the shower and then turn into the toilet room which has a separate door. The door is often closed. But, on this night, it is open. Another important detail.
Half asleep, I am walking. Yes. And I trip over the tile box. I am heading headlong forward, on my way to hit our concrete floors when I instinctively grab the toilet room door handle Good news: it stops me from falling. Bad news: the force of my falling pulls the handle toward me and into my cheekbone. The four letter word that starts with an F cascades out of my mouth and I scream in pain and regret, calling out to my husband, "the safety professional". One hour later, I am nursing my face and around my eye--which barely avoided the impact of the door knob. Next morning, a bruise (but little swelling) appeared and it's been that kind of a week.
I share this with the post script that, the next day, we went out and bought auto night lights for both bathrooms. We have lived in this house since 1997 and it's the first time we added night lights. So, we have the "safer" walk in shower (which we love), the tile box has been removed, and we have more light in the dark.
Here's a question for readers: when have you ever "tripped on the tiles"? Did you adjust to the darkness or add more light? In the spirit of the coming Passover and Easter Season, let's agree to not accept living in the dimmer light and take whatever "steps" we need to take to avoid disasters that are right in front of us...even if they are on the floor.
