I grew up in a townhouse.
The garage was at the bottom. There was a door that lead inside and then you had to go up a set of stairs to get to the loungeroom. From there, there was another set of stairs that led up to the bedrooms.
So one day I was running down the stairs from the bedroom. My destination was the living room.
I was only a few years old.
At the bottom of the stairs, there was a cupboard. So you had to turn right to get to the living room.
I slipped and fell down the stairs, and went headfirst into the cupboard.
My parents told me they took me to the hospital and I didn't need any medical attention. I was advised to just rest.
The next day I went to an aquarium. So much for getting that rest.
Another incident happened on the same set of stairs.
I was about 4 or 5 when this second incident happened.
So me and my dad were walking down the stairs together. I was next to him.
About halfway down the stairs, I randomly grab his crotch and squeeze it.
I felt something that felt like a sausage.
He swatted my hand away. "What was that for?"
I shrugged, "I dunno."
"Why did you do that?"
"I felt like it."
"You do realize that's not appropriate to do?"
"Oh."
Looking back at this memory, I have no idea what caused me to do that.
But my experiences with stairs doesn't stop there.
Oh no no no.
There's more!
I was in prep. I walked down a set of stairs, I believe to go to the toilet. When I headed back, I jogged up the stairs and missed the top one.
I fell down and hurt my elbow pretty badly. It was a pretty bad graze and I'd already injured that same spot.
It had just healed.
Then the wound got reopened.
But I got to go home for the rest of the day. With a sore elbow.
I remember one time in prep I said I had a headache and was tired, when in reality I just wanted to go home.
I got to lay down and they called my parents to pick me up.
But I swear, stairs seem to have something against me.
Why?
I don't have a clue.
But it does make sense. After all, they're always up to something.