For those (few) of you who have been following my gmail chat status, let me offer a slight clarification. To be technically accurate, I did not “fall off a ladder” – I fell on a ladder.

More prosaically, the chain of events began when the ladder fell out from under me. Faced with the choice of hovering there in space (six feet above our front porch), or obeying F = G*m1*m2/r^2, I made a hasty and ill-considered decision to plummet back to the ground. Which would have been fine if there hadn’t been a ladder lying there on the ground below me (Hmmm – it wasn’t there a moment ago…). Left knee hit the porch stairs, right foot hit one of the ladder rungs, and Devon got to put up with an evening of moaning from her klutzy husband.

The upshot is that nothing’s broken, but I’m going to be hobbling around for a while, nursing some sprained ligaments.