Ow.

I thought it was me. Really, I did. I just assumed I was slowly developing some neurological disorder where I was becoming more and more clumsy as the days passed…until the boys would need to put me away somewhere in some assisted-living facility created for the still young-at-heart, but incredibly clumsy and thoroughly-neurologically-impaired. I’d spend the rest of my many days making pot holders out of large, brightly-colored pipe cleaners and learning how to dance whilst sitting down so as not to break a hip.

My IV (the ever-busy, yet still irresistibly intrigued Clinton Kelly is tapping on my shoulder):

Clinton: “Kathryn. We’ve talked about this. You need to tell them what happened. You’re killing me them.”

Kathryn: “Why is it that you never let me set a scene? Do you have somewhere that you have to be? ‘Cause you can leave now….beat the traffic…or dodge the fans…or whatever it is you do. I don’t want to keep you from something more important.”

C: (Hands on hips. Gives hard, twinkly-blue-eyed stare) “If you don’t tell them, I will.”

K: “You wouldn’t dare.”

C: “Two days ago, while rooting through the freezer compartment of her local Stop & Shop, she slipped and fell."

"Her sunglasses flew across the aisle and into the yogurt section, her bag landed upside down next to the freestanding Hostess Twinkie display and her car keys skidded approximately six feet away. There. Now they know. Could’ve cut the suspense in that first paragraph with a butter knife, kiddo.”

K: “I’m….I’m…mortified. Embarrassed beyond belief. That is NOT EVEN THE STORY I WAS GOING TO TELL. You are the meanest, cruelest, most heartless IV I have ever had and I cannot believe you would just blurt this out without even checking your facts first! Where’s your journalistic integrity? Where’s your morals? Where’s that sweet, caring, (yet somewhat inconsistent) but still kind and decent IV I’ve grown to know (and often deeply fear) for the last 16 months?”

C: (Hangs head) “I’m sorry. I just assumed….”

K: “And what do they say about the word assume?”

C: “That it makes an ass of u and me. So, you were leading up to another subject with that opening paragraph? Seriously?”

K: “Yes….yes, I was. But NOW, I’ll have to set the record straight…won’t I? So no-one thinks I’m a crazy lunatic?”

C: “No-one thinks that. Least of all, me. You’re a bright, witty, sane woman with a great talent for storytelling.”

K: “And?”

C: “…and you’re an excellent cook, have a fabulous sense of humor and you’re stunningly beautiful.”

K: “Thank you. (A little too much with the ‘excellent cook’ part, though.) I forgive you.”

C: “Good. Now, tell them the dirty details…we’re getting high on word count.”

K: “Okay. There were many puddles on the floor in front of the freezers. I don't know why. I was looking for the Voila! Garlic Chicken…’cause I’d promised Connor I’d find it. It was on sale ($2 off), so of course they didn’t have any left. I searched and searched, to no avail. As I closed the door to the freezer, that’s when the alleged tragic accident occurred. My sunglasses landed in the butter section…not the yogurt…and my keys bounced off another freezer door and landed near the Twinkie display. I hurt my elbow, my wrist and my tailbone. When a nice lady helped me up, that's when I noticed all the yellow cones proclaiming “CAUTION: WET FLOOR” up and down the aisle.

So, there goes my perfect opportunity to sue. Even though my elbow and wrist don’t hurt anymore, anyway.”

C: “What about your butt? You told me not ten minutes ago that it’s still hurting you.”

K: “Oh, great. So THAT detail you manage to get straight. C’mon….after this post, I think you owe me a cocktail.”

Or three….