I've been thinking about how to tell this story. There's really no graceful way. I can't think of any cute anecdotes. I can't come up with any clever openers, or middles...or endings come to think of it. So I guess I'll just spit it out.
Something's wrong with our bedroom door. When it's open, we have to keep a pair of socks or a shoe or something in front of it or slowly swings shut by itself. This morning, I removed the socks so I could shut the bedroom door and get dressed for church. Afterwards, I opened the door back up, but failed to replace the socks.
I was stepping out the door into the hallway when my husband stopped me to ask me a question. As he and I spoke, and unbeknown to me, the door swung partially back shut. I turned around and walked right into it. I was in a hurry. I was moving fast. I saw stars. My knees buckled. My husband caught me. I cried like a baby. I have a goose-egg on my head and have felt slightly concussed most of the day.
Maybe that's why I can't think of a entertaining way to tell you about this. I can't really think of anything at all, except perhaps that we should fix our bedroom door.