This story begins as most stories do, with the routine normalcy provided by daily life. I began taking off my pants and pulling my leg up over the waist portion of the jeans typically designed for leg exit and entry, not on this day though. What is usually a routine act rapidly became a ninja pop quiz. I had pulled the pants down to my knees expecting to plant my foot firmly on the ground and proceed with the next leg; to my shock, this plan had failed. My foot never fully makes its way out of the exit hole and catches itself in the waistline of the pants. This begins a domino effect that could lead to possible catastrophic events. It begins with me hopping around in a mild panic because I am near the vertically flat wall with no way to brace myself. As I start to frantically look for a center of balance within myself, whilst simultaneously seeking purchase from a nearby wall. I start to pirouette like a drunken ballerina. As mission one, reaction one: freeing my foot is successful, I realize the ineffectiveness of the effort, and that it is too late. My mind shifts into the built-in emergency plan, protect the vessel. I begin the frantic search for something to absorb my impact, with minimal damage to the 35-year-old meat container. The wall! I must tumble into the wall back first. I would prefer to fall into the wall rather than eat it. Okay, sound plan. Let’s do this. I canter my tumbling body towards the wall. Back first, and wait...ugh...I come to a dead stop on the wall. 169 pounds traveling at roughly 3mph. A pure stopping of kinetic force. A living, animate object, and an inanimate object. Simultaneously, a shallow groin finds its way through gritted teeth. Great, now my back hurts.

The end. I was just going to tell you I failed at getting my leg out of my pants and that I hurt my back as a result.

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