My accent isn’t that bad, CHRISTOPHER

On Tuesday Sebastian and I were playing tennis.  And by tennis I mean badminton.  And by badminton I mean each of us was taking turns hitting the birdie while the other one fetched it.  It was good times all around, until someone hit it a little too hard and it landed on the garage roof.

I’m not saying who.

…

I stared up at the garage, believing that if I thought really hard and focused it would just roll right off.

It didn’t.

I looked around for another one because surely there must be a second birdie somewhere on the premises. 

There wasn’t.

So I got the ladder.

 Now our ladder isn’t the typical ladder.  It’s lumbering and heavy and looks something like this:

Big honking ladder

The top part extends to make it even more large and awkward. 

Of course we couldn’t have a normal, easy ladder.  We had to have the terrible twos of ladders.

So I brought the ladder, still folded up, over to where I needed it.  I’ve never really used it, or if I had it was already open and ready for me to just climb on.  So I called Chris.

How do you work this stupid ladder?

What?

How do you work this ladder?

You just push up with your thumbs.

Okay?  Let me tr-OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! It’s got my arm!  IT’S GOT MY ARM!

????

Okay, I got it out.

What are you doing?

I hit the birdie on the roof and I’m trying to get it down. 

Oh LADDER.  I thought you said LIGHTER.

Spoiler alert:  I did not say lighter. 

But, in his defense (if I must) I have been having trouble with that stupid lighter.  It’s one of those big candle/grill lighters and it’s childproof and also maybe Jaime-proof.

And I eventually figured it out after arguing with Chris, who wanted me to just wait until he got home since I’m a helpless female who can’t work a ladder and needs her strong husband to do all things manly and ladder-related. 

Okay, I kid.  Really he just knows how much of a klutz I am and didn’t want me to fall off the ladder and crack my head open while our two children watched in horror.  But still.  Little faith, that one.

But all my trouble landed me a freaky bruise that looked like this right after I did it:

And looks like this today:

I’m calling it the new accessory of the season.  And possibly Charles.