Painting and I don't mix

So I twittered Saturday about whether or not I should clean house or paint my daughter's room. I wasn't sure which was the lesser evil. I chose to clean most of the house, since I knew I was going to be making a mess while painting. I figured it would be better not to have a mess on top of a mess. Of course, my daughter was all on board to help me (she did the toilets) because the faster I finished cleaning, the faster I could paint. Since my house was quite respectable by Saturday afternoon, I took part of yesterday to paint (in between working the nursery at church and going out to celebrate my dad's 61st birthday - HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!)

My DH was off playing golf, as is his usual forte on Sunday. My daughter was invited to go play Barbie at a friend's house down the street. My baby was sleeping in his crib. My oldest I had talked into staying with me instead of going to play Barbie with the girls, with the temptation of a movie of his choice and him helping me paint. Thank goodness I did this too. I was just cutting around the second door when the stool I was standing on broke. I went down hard, hit something that was behind me, and found myself not able to straighten out my right leg without extreme pain. I was the epitome of the First Alert Commercial. "I've fallen, and I can't get up!" I got JT to get my cell phone and the technical brains that he is, tried calling his father. No answer. He tried again. No answer. Then I took the phone and tried. No answer. I'm thinking he is away from his golf bag and just didn't hear the phone, but my backside was bleeding and I needed help.

I sent JT into the kitchen to get me some ice (so he wouldn't see the blood - or my tears), and I called the pro shop at the golf course. A friend of my husband's answered and I was quite calm (it was from the shock of course) and asked him to find my husband and tell him to come home as soon as possible because I had fallen and I couldn't get up.

One of the other pros calls my DH on his phone (of course he "hears" this one as it is vibrating in his shorts pocket), and tells him I'm hurt and that he needs to get home. They sent another guy out in a cart to pick him up, since he is walking the course this day. I created such drama for the men yesterday - and I am sure my bruised backside is the joke among them today.

All in all, I did nothing much except create a bigger mess by getting out all of the supplies, and hurting myself so that I cannot get around and do too much even today. I guess I answered my twitter comment when I was debating on whether or not I should clean house or paint. Painting did turn into the greater evil.