I was going to blog today about Laura Ingalls Wilder, who was born on this day in 1867 and is one of my favorite writers ever. But an hour ago, I had an accident. My husband and I were putting some boxes away in the attic. OK, I admit that we were finally putting away the Christmas things. In our defense, we spent quite a bit of time over the past month throwing stuff out and reorganizing what was left into new boxes so that it takes up a whole lot less space than it used to. And today we were putting it all away until next year.
Bob was on the ladder, and I was handing boxes and bags up to him. Then he dropped the flashlight. This isn’t a little flashlight. It’s a big, heavy, industrial-strength, military-grade flashlight. And it hit me in the head, before it bounced all the way down the stairs to the floor below.
I was dizzy and had to sit down. And I’m still pretty shaky. But I didn’t lose consciousness, my eyesight isn’t blurry, I’m not nauseous, and my pupils are normal. So I don’t think I have a concussion — just a headache, a large swelling on my left eyebrow and above it, and a smaller swelling on my right eyebrow. We’ll watch for other symptoms, but I don’t think I’m seriously hurt. Unfortunately, my glasses are badly scratched, both the frame and one lens. But I recently ordered new ones that will probably be ready this week, so if the old ones had to be damaged, the timing couldn’t be much better.
Maybe I’ll write about Laura another day. For now, I’ve stared at this screen for about as long as this headache will allow. I’m just going to take it easy for the rest of the day.