At last! Enough sun to please little dogs. Hope you have a happy weekend, too.

You know that canvas strap on a wheelie suitcase that allows you to attach a second bag to it? It has another purpose, as well.

If you put the suitcase flat on your floor and spread the canvas loop in the walkway, you have a reasonable approximation of a live trap. I found this out by stepping in it and trying to continue forward.

I crashed like old growth tumbling before Ax Men. It was slow motion, falling ugly. I did manage to arch my way between the hallway wall and the curio cabinet, a difficult maneuver which saved all the priceless knickknacks I have accumulated over the decades (such as the fish head salt and pepper shakers). It was at least a 9.8 on the Olympian scale.

Since I was alone, I could lie there as long as I wished. Nobody rushed over to say, “Are you hurt?” which always makes you try to scramble upright, pick up your dislocated leg and hop away claiming, “Oh, I’m fine, fine.”

I stayed there on my stomach long enough for even my dachshund to think it was a lot of lie-down time. Random thoughts flicked through my brain:

• Jesus, this carpet is filthy.
• If Sis pushed a computer under my face, could I peck away with my nose?
• I feel like the bug at the opening of the first Men in Black movie. Splat.
• If I can never actually breathe again, maybe I should write out a will in dust bunnies.

It is now two days later. After just so much dachshund breath moisturizing my face, I eventually did stand, get out the vegetable scissors and slice off the canvas strap. Yes, I could have merely unbuckled it, but you know. We all need a bit of justice in our lives.

Other than a Technicolor knee and an interesting bent to one ankle, I believe I am fit for Dancing with the Stars once again. Unlike the old growth timber. Which makes me luckier than a tree.

My ambitions are modest.