Express Route

Here's some handy-dandy trivia for you. When going down stairs, try to use all of the steps.
Yesterday, in my stupid quest to be environmentally conscious and compost, I, laden with pan holding a vile melange of coffee grounds, vegetable peelings, and some very odd liquid, took two steps down the stairs and then went asterisk over teakettle down the stairs. (Looks about in search of sympathy, and finding none AS USUAL, continues.)
Wiping the onion skin off my brow, I demonstrated my usual strength of character: I screamed. For about a full minute. Loudly. So loudly that not only did my dogs bark, but the critters next door joined in.
I finally got up, mopped myself off, shoveled up as much of the rotting vegetation as possible, brought it to the compost bin, came in, scrubbed the floor, took two ibuprofen, showered, and went to school.
I don't think I made a lot of sense (my poor students), as my head (which, it seems, had cushioned my fall) was REALLY hurting.
This morning, I decided to pay a visit to my sweet but highly-overworked doctor (ok, I actually called first), who confirmed that I had booboo-ed myself pretty well. The good news is she was more concerned with my breathing than the possibility of a life-threatening blood clot caused by cranial hematoma.
't'ain't easy being a klutz.