I Hate Stairs
With a sudden burst of confidence to type, I have decided to share an experience of my horrible old staircase. It was the summer of 2007, quite a nice one for me, very warm and pleasant. Me and the husband were just in the house and, before I go on, I did notice that the stairs were playing up prior to this event, so I was kind of ignorant. Anyway, one afternoon, I turned to walk down my stairs, when suddenly, I fell through them.
I went straight through and I'm glad I did because all I got from it was bruises and splinters. If I tried the Egyptian dance move I'd be dead.
My husband rushes from the computer room (or 'the big pit') and he is frantic.He says: "JESUS! ARE YOU OKAY?!" I get up, covered in more dust than a lazy baker, and I say to him: "I think Jesus' wellbeing is the least of your problems." I'm happy to say I didn't do anything severe to myself or the husband, but the stairs didn't look too happy. Luckily, we could get them fixed and we tried to live happily ever after.
I went straight through and I'm glad I did because all I got from it was bruises and splinters. If I tried the Egyptian dance move I'd be dead.
My husband rushes from the computer room (or 'the big pit') and he is frantic.He says: "JESUS! ARE YOU OKAY?!" I get up, covered in more dust than a lazy baker, and I say to him: "I think Jesus' wellbeing is the least of your problems." I'm happy to say I didn't do anything severe to myself or the husband, but the stairs didn't look too happy. Luckily, we could get them fixed and we tried to live happily ever after.
