I'm one of those people that is far more dangerous to myself than I would ever be to another person, unless perhaps that person were attached to me. And when I say attached, I mean like a Siamese twin, not "fond of" or going steady...

My wife is convinced that I need to walk with my eyes always facing the ground, as I tend to trip more often than John Ritter on a Three's Company 7-day retrospective.

I've tripped on carpet, linoleum, hardwood, and tile. I've tripped on grass, pavement, and once even in water only as high as my ankle. Several years ago I tripped on some wet grass at a local golf course that literally flipped me head over heels, and once conscious again, had me wondering whether or not the ribs on my frontside and backside had melded. I landed so hard I looked like one of those anatomical display dummies you sometimes see in a doctor's office. Although those educational characters generally don't tend to have their entire intestinal tract located above their lungs...

I am also famous on a grand scale for bumping into things. Which kind of discounts the questionable advice to always be looking down, as I am capable of (and have indeed done so) walking into a closed screen door on a balcony, while trying to avoid tripping on the area rug placed in front of it...

Not so long ago, my wife and I were in an antique store. I swear she was sweating like a yak doing aerobics on a sunny summer day, until I made my way back out of the store without incident.

I should be more aware of things in my path, as I never seem to be the winner in a collision. My legs have bruises up one side and down the other at the exact height of coffee tables, dressers, and desks. I will still manage to find a way to bump into something I've already walked into three or four times before. We rarely ever rearrange the furniture in our home, as it's a one-way ticket to the emergency ward for me. A person shouldn't have to require a sizeable medical staff, just to extricate a small table lamp...

Chow for now!!