Current mood:	sheepish
Current music:	"I Can't Dance" by Phil Collins

Thankfully, nobody was awake to see it.
"Okay, guys, standard clockwise trunk rotation, begin normal flat-surface walk pattern to the car."
"Boss! Right leg emergency! Stepping down, not laterally on flat surface -- we were on the bottom step, not the walkway. Support failure, 12 degrees past stable vertical plane and accelerating."
"Left leg: emergency cross-over."
"This is left leg, boss -- we got there, but not nearly fast enough. Minor strain on left quadricep attempting emergency support, but we're still heading down -- 22 degrees past stable vertical plane and accelerating."
"Right leg: What have you got?"
"No good, boss -- tangled on left foot trying to move into position. I got a short hop in toward the lawn, but we're pretty much out of the fight."
"Shit. Okay, arms, dump cleaning supplies -- we don't need a face full of Murphy's Oil Soap. Core, sharp clockwise rotation to avoid pavement collision on elbow or shoulder, and forward flexion 10 degrees. Neck, lock chin toward chest. Right shoulder, inward rotation. Hip/ribs -- brace for impact. Everyone: roll on contact, let's see if we can keep the bruising to a minimum."

[thud]

"Status, all decks."
"Right shoulder here -- little tweaked, but okay."
"Right calf -- minor abbrasion on pavement contact. Nothing too bad."
"Ribs -- pretty much fine, thanks to the roll."
"Skull here -- no impact, just feeling a little stupid."
"Right thigh -- you fell on your keys, boss. Sorry."