Learning lessons the hard way

When I became my own roommate sometime last year, I thought it was pretty cool. I'd always lived with friends or roommates or life partners, so I was quite excited. Until I was walking down the hall one evening, caught my big toe in the cuff of my lulu pants, and nearly smashed my head into the corner of a wall. When I caught myself and quickly giggled to get over the fright, the image of the dog licking my face as I slowly died, alone, in my apartment, played over and over in my head. Not in the bad way, like I should get a roommate, but mostly that I should be me more careful. Other close calls have been slipping in the shower or starting a small fire in the kitchen. And on this cold February night, I can now say: Do not practice yoga handstands that require perfect balance while home alone. Especially if there is nothing below your face but a hardwood floor.