So I survived. You know, those sneaky toga clad, knife bearing Romans that go around on March 15th stabbing people to death? They didn't get me. I think I had some close calls, but I deftly slipped around corners and up stairs and into the bathroom and avoided any incidences that may have sent me to the emergency room...
(Nurse #1: Man, I hate the Ides of March! Look at all these sorry stabbed people.
Nurse #2: So do I. You think people would learn. Didn't they teach this stuff in school?
Nurse #1: I dunno. I had to learn about poor old Julius in English, and I tell you what, next to knowing CPR, that has been handy information.
Nurse #2: So, I'm grabbing lunch. Can I get you a salad?)
Really, I owe it to my kids who have helped me hone the skills required to get into the bathroom alone, no matter how close the pursuer. So, maybe I'll give them a break and clean up the laurel leaves scattered around the house by myself.