I fell down the stairs of Hope…

a ship named Hope, that is.  Sis and I like lighthouses, and we enjoyed our last voyage to see the shoal- and island-bound houses.  This year the sun shone just as brightly but the wind was colder and the waves steeper.

Long story short: I was going down the stairs to use the head (“little sailors’ room” to you landlubbers). My glasses darkened so much that I thought I’d reached the bottom of the stairs. I missed two steps and down I went. In some ways it was the easiest fall I’ve ever taken – but there was a non-skid mat that tore up my shins.

The bleeding distracted me from the pain in my ankle (sprained) and elbow (bloody) and top of foot (skinned through my shoe – that really took the cake!)

I still enjoyed the trip, though I couldn’t climb lighthouses or swim. The sixteen steps to our hotel room was a bit long, but manageable.

The hard part has been at home, where I can’t do as I like. More on that later.

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