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Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Lisa's Mum came round yesterday (and I didn't even know she was unconscious), and just as she was about to leave, two of the lightbulbs in the living room blew. I think it was the surge of static electricity generated by her sliding off the sofa. We have very high ceilings here (it's the only thing Amelie can't reach), and to change the bulbs, we need to use a stepladder. So as I walked out of the door to give her Mum a lift home, Lisa said she'd ascend skywards and bring light to the world. I'm paraphrasing her there.

Naturally, as someone concerned for the welfare of my fiancée (and even more concerned that I might be left raising Amelie on my own), I told her to wait until I got back. Bearing in mind that she has a history of falling down cliffs, steps, hills, and basically anything that involves using her legs, I wasn't sure she should use a ladder unsupervised. Naturally she disagreed and said she'd do it anyway. So I checked her life insurance policy and left.

I returned fifteen minutes later to find the living room in silence and semi-darkness. So I looked up at the lightbulbs, then clocked the stepladder in the middle of the room, before finally noticing the body of Lisa on the floor. It was at that point that my heart stopped beating. Never mind going up the steps, I thought she'd climbed the stairway to heaven.

Needless to say, the moment Lisa saw me clutching my chest and turning white, she jumped up and started laughing. Then promptly stopped when she realised I was in cardiac arrest. I've always said that the secret of a successful relationship is the ability to make each other laugh. So I've told her not to do it again.