Lesson #1: What not to do when the doorbell rings

[For those of you who are new to this blog, Vickie (the ankle-ly challenged) tells tales of her daily triumphs and failures to her daughter, Emily, who then recounts them all to you. Vickie's thoughts are in plain font while Emily's interjections appear in bold.]

I'm laying in bed, home alone, and the doorbell rings.

(insert intense movie music here)

My first thought was holy hell, who is that? So, I got my jacket (which was laying at the end of the bed so I didn't have to go get it, thank goodness) and after two rings, I finally wrestled my (ancient, oversized sweatshirt) on. I'm getting up to get my crutches as the visitor begins to knock.

I'm hobbling as fast as I can, at this point, I can see someone bending down and starting to walk away. I open the door and he informs me that the flowers he has sat down are for Vickie.

Oh goody! I'm Vickie! He hands me the flowers and says, can you get that? And for some reason, I said yes and shut the door.

I then realized very quickly, stranded in the doorway, that no, I could not get this. I had no way of moving. I have the vase in one hand, the crutches under both arms, and no way to transport myself in any direction. Somehow (I'm not sure how this happened, I must have blacked out) I did a lil hop-hop (that is the technical term) to the table, five feet away. By this time, I'm in a flop sweat (what the hell is a flop sweat?) and shaking uncontrollably because of all the energy hopping like a bunny for five feet has cost me.

I hobbled back to bed and got the crutches off, the pillows fluffed, and the blankets arranged. Only to discover I had left the door unlocked. And because I (am overly paranoid) was concerned that someone would break in, I then had to repeat the entire process again.

I later asked Mom why the hell she didn't just ask the flower delivery boy to sit the flowers on the table inside the door and she responded 'Well because, I can't let a stranger in the house! He could have murdered me!' Goodness.

Lesson learned: purchase a bag to carry around one's neck to place get well flowers in when answering the door while home alone.