I sprained my ankle while making a bed, come to think of it.
(Not nearly as exciting as yours- I scrambled over the bed to tuck in the sheet on the other side, and slipped off awkwardly feet-first; there was no danger of head-cracking.)
Other times I have sprained ankles: while sliding on ice as a child, while walking down a frost-covered hill, and on a completely flat, ice-free pavement where I suddenly fell over for no reason. I haven't sprained anything else (yet): my ankles are my Achilles heel.
Clumsiness high-five! (It's like a normal high-five, but you miss.) I can't believe how many people thoughtlessly risk their lives by making their beds every day.
My bed is a futon mattress directly on the floor. It is just about the most injury-proof bed in the WORLD.
...except for the fact that it's on the side of my room where they just decided I could DEAL with the sharp drop of the roof determining my ceiling, so when I first moved in here, I had a fairly protracted series of smacking my head on the ceiling every time I went to deal with something on that side of the room. So.
...ahahaha I THOUGHT WE WERE THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO DID THAT.
(Our futon frame was broken when we jumped on it too hard, so we ended up just sleeping on the mattress. We are upgrading to an actual real bed as of today! One that sheets will actually fit because no one makes sheets to fit futons! But it was weirdly fun having the mattress, for a while.)
Oh, dear. I admire your bravery in sleeping there; I've been in rooms in which part of the ceiling is lower than my full height before, and it never ends well.
I am also extremely glad you didn't manage to kill yourself. I never ever make my bed. Even though it's not a bunk bed, clearly this is the right attitude to take.
(I'm sure there are plenty of other far more stupid ways to die though.)
Being spurned by Romeo is probably the best possible outcome. There's every chance that Rosaline, for instance, lived a long and happy life.
That mime thing is the most amazing thing I've ever heard.
I don't make my bed. Never saw the point, really - I just have to undo everything later in order to make a comfortable nesty tangle to fall asleep in. And it's apparently horribly dangerous, so now I have even less reason to make my bed.
After watching Shakespeare in Love, I ship Rosaline/Ethel the pirate's daughter, which is probably a bit silly, but really, who wouldn't read Rosaline and Ethel, the Pirate's Daughter?
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(Not nearly as exciting as yours- I scrambled over the bed to tuck in the
sheet on the other side, and slipped off awkwardly feet-first; there was no danger of head-cracking.)
Other times I have sprained ankles: while sliding on ice as a child, while walking down a frost-covered hill, and on a completely flat, ice-free pavement where I suddenly fell over for no reason. I haven't sprained anything else (yet): my ankles are my Achilles heel.
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...except for the fact that it's on the side of my room where they just decided I could DEAL with the sharp drop of the roof determining my ceiling, so when I first moved in here, I had a fairly protracted series of smacking my head on the ceiling every time I went to deal with something on that side of the room. So.
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(Our futon frame was broken when we jumped on it too hard, so we ended up just sleeping on the mattress. We are upgrading to an actual real bed as of today! One that sheets will actually fit because no one makes sheets to fit futons! But it was weirdly fun having the mattress, for a while.)
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I never ever make my bed. Even though it's not a bunk bed, clearly this is the right attitude to take.
(I'm sure there are plenty of other far more stupid ways to die though.)
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Exactly! Making one's bed is unacceptably risky; don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
(True; I suppose falling backwards off one's bed isn't quite Darwin Awards material.)
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPvtaHDl9tA&feature=player_embedded
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That mime thing is the most amazing thing I've ever heard.
I don't make my bed. Never saw the point, really - I just have to undo everything later in order to make a comfortable nesty tangle to fall asleep in. And it's apparently horribly dangerous, so now I have even less reason to make my bed.
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(p.s. riona, i am glad you lived to tell the tale of your courageous battle with the bunk bed.)
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