Today I departed from the theme so I can share with you the touching story of how I almost killed my husband on Monday. We have a trap door to our basement, seen below, and after a fuse blew I went to the basement to fix it. As usual, our headstrong cat followed me down there and refused to come back up when I called. My husband usually shuts the door on her but I felt bad after we'd been away from her for a week so I left it open. I mentioned it to my husband but by the time he went downstairs (without turning the light on, I should mention) he'd clearly forgotten. This is evidenced by the fact that he stepped right into the open chasm in the floor, fell about eight feet straight down with a little aid from the steep wooden stairs, and squashed flat a bag of Christmas wine glasses I'd had sitting at the bottom of the stairs. The doctor says he's lucky he didn't die, which is just what any wife loves to hear. Aside from some nasty bruises, scrapes and cuts, and some shoulder pain he's more or less OK. Needless to say, when I went downstairs this evening I shut the door even though the cat was, once again, refusing to come upstairs.
This is only about 2/3 of the staircase