To allay the potential pearl clutching, I immediately took my hacksaw down and cut off the exposed rebar that tripped the visiting sister downstairs. They haven’t been here long enough to understand that the landlords won’t come to fix something like that. It’s on us and it’s usually me who does it. Part of the price of my free labor is that I get to perform practical jokes. 

Maybe my doorframe guillotine was a bit too much. (I’m just kidding.)

I watched her fall. She already has an arm brace on her right arm. She was not looking down when she tripped, although her version of events tell it differently. 

If I were a lawyer, here’s what I would say: 

“Your contention is that you were looking down?”

“Yes.”

“That assertion strains credibility. For if you were indeed looking down, it’s only logical to conclude that you saw the obstruction and stepped under it anyway.”

Visiting nieces and nephews watched me walk down the stairs with my chalk. When they realized what I was writing, they burst out laughing. The niece asked me to sign it with. “-R,” as all of them have names that begin with that letter. 

The sister who fell already has a reputation for inattentiveness. The arm brace that preceded the fall tends to lend credibility to that reputation. 

I may need a neck brace of my own once the sister sees the message I chalked on the pavement. She does not have a sense of humor like the two occupants below me who I know well. The “wife” of the duo below me has an incredible laugh, one that’s loud and infectious. I’ll let her know she needs to infect her sister with it. 

Update: the downstairs neighbor burst into laughter, laughter that I could hear from inside my apartment. It complemented the beautiful fall day. (No pun intended.)