Another chapter in the ongoing saga of the "summer in which [I] damage [myself] in many and various ways"¹:
Last night, before Evelin went to bed, she closed the baby gate to the kitchen, just in case Celeste figured out how to escape her crib, walk, navigate the stairs, and otherwise find herself tempted by all the dangers the kitchen offers. She also brought her water bottle to the bottom of the stairs and asked me to fill it up before I came up for the night.
Well, after shutting off the last of the downstairs lights, I kicked the water bottle on my way upstairs, which reminded me that I needed to fill that for her. Rather than turning on the lights, I trusted my nightvision to navigate me through the living and dining rooms to the kitchen ... and straight into the baby gate.
It wasn't latched, but it stayed in place enough to send me tumbling head over heels into the kitchen with a rather loud bang and an interjection or two that, thankfully, Celeste did not hear because she was asleep. Nothing was bleeding, but I did tweak something in my hamstring. Sigh.