Monday night I had to got bed at an absurdly early hour so that I could wake up at an even more absurdly early hour. So early that it was still light outside and kids were still playing with their remote control cars or scooters or whatever. And those fuckers were loud. But I couldn’t shut the window because it was still light outside and still really fucking hot.
Luckily I am a very good sleeper and I was able to mostly sleep through the night. I woke up once to see the clock read 2:59 and thought Fuck, I have to wake up. And then, Wait a minute, why didn’t my alarm go off at 2:45 like it was supposed to? And then, Oh, nice, it’s only 12:59. I still have two hours of sleep. And when I did wake up at 3:00 I felt okay. Rested, even.
At work we have two shifts and we try to open all activities to everyone, which means that sometimes schedules are changed. Instead of forcing the night shift to come in late and stay late (which makes for a very long day the following day since they only get about 4 hours of sleep when we do this) we decided to have a cinco de mayo breakfast. At 6:00 am. Which we had to start setting up for at 4:00 am.
By the time I showed up to the room, everything was mostly set up (that’s what I get for stopping at my desk to check e-mail) and I was sent off to get tin foil and spoons. The second floor of our building is shut down because we don’t have enough office people to keep it open so there’s a lot of dark spaces. Normally these don’t bother me because it’s during the day and there’s enough natural light coming in that it doesn’t seem like something or someone could attack you out of the shadows. At 5:00 in the morning, though, it absolutely does. I took the elevator up one flight (don’t judge, it’s really dark up there) and grabbed the goods I had come for. But instead of taking the elevator back down I decided to take the stairs.
And holy hell were those fuckers dark. No lights and dark (midnight) blue carpet is not a good combination. Luckily, though, I noticed this beforehand and took the first part of the stairs very slowly, looking at each step to make sure I stepped on it correctly.
The second set of stairs, though, I think I got a little cocky. The light was starting to shine through the windows and I was over-confident after successfully maneuvering the first step. Hubris, it gets you every fucking time.
This time I’m looking around the unused lobby (did the janitors clean it correctly?) and as I’m stepping onto the last stair I look up and notice that the phone there, which no one uses, is blinking that it has a message. I completely miss the first step and roll my ankle on the ground floor. No, this is not one of those almost-falls. I didn’t catch myself just in the nick of time. I fell face down on the floor. And the pain I felt was immediate.
I picked myself up off the ground and hobbled back to the conference room to help set up. Laughingly I told everyone what had happened and our HR rep insisted that I go to the clinic just to make sure everything’s okay. So after an hour or so at the clinic I limped out on my sprained ankle with an ace-bandage type brace and a prescription for generic Aleve.
Advice from my brother afterwards: “It’s fine. Just elevate it and don’t be so clumsy.” Which I surely could have used before I fell.