I DID A BAD THING, REALLY, REALLY BAD,BAD,BAD.........

and no one is to blame but....ME. 
I was over at dad's on Wednesday.  He's still fartin' around with the old porch railings and posts from the bungalow in town.  Stuff is probably 60 years old, too short to ever use on another porch, lead paint, etc.  He agonized over cutting it up????  The two post from the farm house are over 100 years old with cut nails.  It was even harder for him to think about cutting them up.  "What should I do?"  'I don't know, dad, it's up to you.'  He wouldn't listen to me anyhow.  So,  he tells me he needs to unlock the cellar doors.  He never, hardly ever, asks me to do anything, just drops big hints.  'I'll go do it.'  Mainly cause it is less walking for him.  So........I go into the house, down the basement steps, pass the woodstove, unlock the man-door, up the concrete steps to the underside of the Bilco door, unlock it, turn, take one step, take another and.......what!!! there shouldn't be a step there!  I should be at the bottom!!!  The bottom was two steps down, I missed those two steps, but I found the bottom.  Boy, is concrete hard.  The left knee took the brunt of it and not only did I land on it, but then it ended up bent under my left leg.  Hit my head on the block wall, and, then, just laid there, moaning and thinking....How am I going to get up?  I couldn't crawl back up the steps, 'cause I couldn't push the Bilco doors open from underneath.  I finally managed to get up and hobbled out of the house, over to dad, who promptly asks me, "Why is your jacket so dirty?"  'Cause I fell down your outside steps!'  "Aw, honey.  I did that about 10 years ago."  So, Archie and I went home, I put ice on it all evening.  Next morning, still swollen, call doctor, see him in afternoon, sends me for xrays over at 'Health Campus' where you have to park and walk 3 blocks, up hill to even get in the door, then walk another block down the hall to get to 'Diagnostic Imaging'.  Four xrays, on the way home, doctors office calls, nothing fractured, nothing broke, keep it up and ice it down.  Phone call from Lois,  "Whatcha doin'?"  I tell her.  "Crap, feel like supper at the restaurant?"  'Sure'  Artie stops in and we three eat and chit-chat.  Leave, stop at Dad's,  "Where have you been, I've been calling all afternoon."  'Why didn't you call my cell?'  "I never thought about it."  Now, I had called him at lunch time to tell him I was going up to the doctors, so he knew where I was.  So, each day, it gets a little better, swelling is down, big time.  Both knees are a little weak, but the pain has improved 80%.  Doc gave me a script for Percocet, but I didn't fill it.  Oh, Dad finally did cut up most of that sorry-ass lumber, but not the 3/4 round pieces, and not the century-old porch post from the farm, they're in the barn.  Whatever.

Later.................