Falling down

Last night I was talking to The Doktah on the phone, and right in the middle of her telling me something very important, The Husband came over and started staring at me with a really goofy grin. This made it very hard to concentrate on the conversation, so I had to interrupt The Doktah to ask The Husband, “What?” Apparently, the fact that I was lying on the living room floor while talking on the phone struck him as highly amusing.

I explained to The Doktah that The Husband was laughing at me for no reason, and she said, “Well, to be fair, you do do funny stuff all the time without realizing it. Remember the time you fell down in the bank?”

“No,” I replied.

“Exactly!” she said. “We were waiting in line for the teller, and you just suddenly fell down and almost knocked over a pole!” Apparently, after this happened, The Doktah gasped, “Are you all right?” I looked at her, confused, and said, “What? Yes, why?” I had not even noticed that I fell.

I fall down a lot. One time in college, I tripped over nothing and fell down the stairs at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I’m still not quite sure how it happened. There was a jerk, a few moments of confusion, and the next thing I knew, I was lying down with my feet at the top of the stairs and my head at the bottom. There were lots of people around, so I leapt up and shouted, “I’M FINE!” then ran away to hide.

So a little wobbling in a bank doesn’t exactly stick in my head.