{"id":69518,"date":"2020-06-27T18:19:52","date_gmt":"2020-06-27T22:19:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=69518"},"modified":"2020-06-27T18:19:52","modified_gmt":"2020-06-27T22:19:52","slug":"upstairs","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2020\/06\/upstairs\/","title":{"rendered":"Upstairs"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Upstairs<\/p>\n<p>Everything I need is upstairs<br \/>\nwhen I\u2019m downstairs. A full flight<br \/>\nof stairs is exactly what happened<br \/>\nwhen I was rushing off to work,<br \/>\narms full, pocketbook that seemed<br \/>\nlined with bricks, tote bag brimming<br \/>\nwith essentials, and I\u2019m late for work.<\/p>\n<p>As if the steps are made of ice, I fly,<br \/>\narms flapping, bags dropping, feet<br \/>\npirouetting out-of-balance and I crash<br \/>\nland on the side of the stairs. How I got<br \/>\nthere, I\u2019ll never know. Our inquisitive dog,<br \/>\nSnapple, standing over me, asking<br \/>\n\u201cWhat are you doing on my floor, Mommy?\u201d<br \/>\nI don\u2019t know sweetie but it\u2019s not good.<\/p>\n<p>I sat on the stairs for a little while<br \/>\nbefore getting up, limping a little,<br \/>\nand going to work. Not good.<br \/>\nA few hours later, I\u2019m at urgent care<br \/>\nshaking my head in disbelief. I broke<br \/>\nmy knee. It\u2019s the day before Halloween<br \/>\nand I\u2019m hosting a poetry costume party<br \/>\nthe next day. My costume: a bride<br \/>\nand with my bruised knee and swollen ankle,<br \/>\nI could be Frankenstein\u2019s mate. X-rays say<br \/>\nstay off it but it\u2019s poetry, I\u2019m the host,<br \/>\nand I can\u2019t. Cocktail length skirt shows<br \/>\nmy brace but that\u2019s ok. My husband knows<br \/>\nwhen it comes to poetry, it\u2019s useless to protest.<\/p>\n<p>Later, at home, not good. I am miserable.<br \/>\nEvery blasted thing I need is upstairs<br \/>\nbecause I am trapped downstairs. I try<br \/>\nto improvise, use calendar boxes as<br \/>\na haiku journal, but the pen leaks blotches.<br \/>\nPaul had to run some errands so it\u2019s me<br \/>\nand Snapple. I finally find the courage to crawl<br \/>\nbackwards up the stairs. It took an eternity<br \/>\nto figure out how to get off the floor in the hall<br \/>\nbut I did it; Snapple helped. Bliss. Upstairs,<br \/>\nmy pillow, my bed, pens and journals, it\u2019s good<br \/>\nuntil Snapple has to go out. Urgent.<\/p>\n<p>Useless to cajole Snapple, I ride the stairs down<br \/>\nlike a playground slide, collide with the front door<br \/>\njust as Paul opens it. Not good. Now, I\u2019m strapped<br \/>\nin the recliner, stacks of pens and paper beside me,<br \/>\nmy pillow under my head, Snapple sleeping<br \/>\nnext to the chair guarding my every move,<br \/>\nand no way I\u2019m going upstairs for a long long time<br \/>\nand, I confess, that\u2019s good.<\/p>\n<p>~ J R Turek<br \/>\nJune 27, 2020<br \/>\nHour 10<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Upstairs Everything I need is upstairs when I\u2019m downstairs. A full flight of stairs is exactly what happened when I was rushing off to work, arms full, pocketbook that seemed lined with bricks, tote bag brimming with essentials, and I\u2019m late for work. As if&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1325,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-69518","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69518","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1325"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=69518"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69518\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":69560,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69518\/revisions\/69560"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=69518"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=69518"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=69518"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}