We got a nice bunk bed from Ikea for my youngest daughter, Kayla, a while back. The ladder was only rated to 200 pounds. The bottom rung broke off fairly quickly, but we didn't really need a bottom rung, so we ignored it.

There are weight ratings for a reason

Tonight, after I read her a bedtime story ("The Sneetches" and "Bartholomew and the Oobleck"), I stood on the bottom rung for two seconds — too long.

Nice gashes, don't you think? Shallow, but long, and regularly spaced. Apparently my shin scraped along the bolt all the way down. The bolt actually bent, as you can see in the picture.

Eri immediately went to purchase a new ladder online. (Gee, thanks, Dear.) I sat behind her and applied direct pressure to stop the bleeding. I discussed with Eri how any new ladder we purchased wouldn't be any better than the old one, but she wasn't paying attention.

I got a nice, clean, damp paper towel and started cleaning the wound. It stung like the dickens, but it wasn't impairing my locomotion. I expressed to Eri how frustrated I was with her pointless ladder search; she gave it up, and walked off to find me a bandage.

There was no way a bandage was going to fit on that.

Eventually I convinced her. She recommended Liquid Bandage, an antiseptic that you brush on, then wait for it to harden.

I applied it to a small wound about an inch away from the big one. THAT hurt. I can't believe someone actually thought this stuff was a good idea. I had to screw up my courage to apply it to the big wound. Even then it took three applications, with pauses in between for exclamations of agony. (I'm really trying to cut back on the cursing. And the dentist tells me I'm not allowed to grind or clench my teeth. This was a trial.)

Worse yet, Eri kept asking if she could apply it! How sadistic is that?!?

Ten minutes later, the pain was down to a dull throb, and Eri was saying that if we built our own ladder, it would take us six months. I really love that woman.