"Goodnight Harley.... You're such a Good Boy... Yes you are!" I said, giving my dog a good ruffle. His sleepy eyes looked back at me and he licked my hand.

"See ya boy." I said walking out of his kennel, leaving the gate open as he spread out across his plush mat.

I turned around to leave the basement and head to bed when something caught my eye. Amongst the tangle of Yellow and Orange heavy duty Utility extension cords hung my Skipping rope!

My skipping rope! 20+ years old and still there! My Toboggan hadn't survived the "clean up" but my Skipping Rope had! Red Wooden Handles, Black Bungie Cord and The White Twine fixes that my Grandfather had applied when disaster had struck.

When I lived in London, there weren't many kids my age in the neighborhood, for that matter, there weren't many kids at all. There was a lovable elderly couple next door, the Stansons. For Christmas one year they gave me a skipping rope, something I "could use and play with on my own", Mrs Stanson had reasoned.

I quickly mastered it and became nothing short of a skipping rope phenom. I was even better than the girls on my street who were older than me. I could play Hop-Scotch while Skipping, I could play monkey in the middle while jumping, I could even play soccer while skipping.

I took down the skipping rope from the Tangle of colored wire.
"Hmm.. I wonder If I still have it." I muttered, it's probably like riding a bike, you never forget.
I took the rope, a little short for me now but the handles felt right in my hands.

I swung it back and forth a few times. It seemed to clear the ceiling. So....
Whoop... Whoop... Whoop ...
The rope sliced through the air and I gingerly jumped over it. Harley stirred from his Sleepiness, now watching me in all my gimpy, smiley glee as I hopped around the basement.

"Holy shit! I'm a master" I thought, maybe said aloud. I started to cross my arms over, switching handles and stepping through the ropes.

"I'm the shit! I'm the S....... FUCK!"

The Skipping rope swung up and caught around the leg of the 20 foot ladder hanging from the ceiling. "...Fuck!" Too late, In the "come around" I had already pulled.
The ladder tumbled off its pegs and rolled down, crashing hard across my back and rattling to the floor. The other end caught a pile of boxes and toppled them, the ancient and long retired Christmas Lights within smashed to pieces. Harley Bolted out of his Kennel and out of harm's way as a box rolled to rest near where he had been.

I stood up, knees fine, pants scuffed, rubbing my back. "Ah shit."

The other basement door burst open. "What the hell is going on?" My pajama clad father said, looking around, thoroughly unimpressed.

"Sorry dad... Ahhhhh" A sudden burst of pain rolling from my impacted back "I was being an idiot and Knocked some shit over."

"Look, just go to bed ok."

"Aye." I said, hanging the oh-so harshly edged aluminum ladder back up. Dad piled the boxes back up and then I followed him upstairs.

I should have taken a hint I guess. Skipping rope is definitely like riding a bike, you never forget... But no one rides a bike inside. "Idiot" I muttered, silently thanking God for having not split my head open.