Saturday, March 23, 2013

23:30 -- Efficiency...

I thought I was being efficient, really.

Thursday night, I tiptoed through the bedrooms of sleeping boys to rescue hampers two shirts shy of spilling over.  I collected our clothes in need of attention.  I hosted a sorting party at the end of the bed -- whites, darks, and lights all piled up waiting for their trip to the laundry room downstairs.

Darks first.  This load contained most of our sleepers and toddler clothes we'd need to pack for the weekend trip to Grandma and Grandpa's house.  I bounced back upstairs after adding them to the washing machine...and fell asleep, in peace, while my chore took care of itself.

Morning rolled around and I hit snooze.  Twice.  Rushing through our routine at lightning speed, we finally made it to the pass-through laundry room connecting the rest of our house to the garage.  With bags, totes, laptops, lunches, and bottles, we juggled them out to the pair of awaiting black Jeeps.

And that's when my efficient laundry plan resurfaced.

Car seats clicked and smooches kissed, my Mary Jane heels stomped back inside and over the wood floors, up the carpeted stairs, down the hall, to the nursery.  One last outfit should be added to the next load I'll start right now.

Hearing the clock's emphatic tick, I clasped a green onesie and navy pants with a soccer ball on the bottom before bolting back toward the stairs.  On the way down, I took them two by two until the flight angled...

and my three-inch heel caught the step...
and my right hand reached to grab the decorative ledge I fell past with alarming speed...
and my kneecaps beat the floor while
my ankles twisted and turned unnaturally
and my laundry polka-dotted the entry rug.

I didn't feel anything.  Except my beating heart and racing mind, which were busy gathering a bouquet of thankful thoughts.

I wasn't holding the baby.
I wasn't holding the toddler.
It's just me.  
And I'll be fine.  
Whatever the side effects are.

I gathered the laundry and picked up the wooden bowl of pine cones, splashed around during 'the incident.'  I rubbed my knees and headed toward the laundry room to add one last outfit before starting the next load.  The machine clicked, the light flashed green.  It would do my work while I went to work.

I came home yesterday to finished laundry...and a new definition of efficiency.

It's working smarter, not necessarily quicker...

Especially not on the stairs.

Write on,


  1. Yikes! Glad you weren't holding the baby, and that you are ok! Sometimes that efficiency thing can be dangerous!

  2. Thankful with you and am glad you are fine after your tumble.

  3. I try to be so careful when carrying the 18 month old. So glad it wasn't anything, perhaps you'll be a little sore, & that's okay. We do rush around don't we? Ugh-too much to do sometimes! Thanks for the reminder!

  4. I let out an audible gasp as I read. Your writing is beautiful. Such strong verbs!

  5. I love the way you turn a phrase, such as the bouquet of thankful thoughts.
    Did you read Donna's tale of a spin with the stairs at Mainely Write? (
    Stairs are dangerous, be careful. Efficiency is not all that critical in the scheme of life.

  6. Goodness....that must have been a scare! What interested and moved me was the list of
    thankful thoughts that came to your mind.

  7. Oh My! I am glad that you were okay. That could have been a very bad situation. The most suspenseful part of this writing for me was the line in which you talked about not feeling anything. I felt that moment after something like this happens where you take a moment to assess the damage. It is interesting that your moment was filled with thankful thoughts. Definitely slow down on the stairs from now on.

  8. I could feel the pain in my ankles when they moved in that awful way and I could see the results when "my laundry polka-dotted the entry rug" (BTW: I loved that line.) I've learned to delay start the washing machine so it washes an hour before I get home. Then, I just pop it in the dryer. Oh, the magic of technology.

    Thankful you weren't holding the kids. Hope you heal soon!

  9. Love that your beating heart and racing mind could gather a bouquet of thankful thoughts at such a time. Do slow down a bit - so glad you're okay!

  10. Beautifully told! I'm glad you're ok.

  11. Wow! When I got to the part about your fall, I felt my pulse race. I'm so glad you're ok, though bruised.

    That was an amazing piece of writing. Thank you for sharing your cautionary slice.


Hi! I'd love to hear what you are thinking right now, so please take a sec and drop me a line. I'm so glad you stopped by today -- thanks a billion. :)