6.27.10

This entry is a cautionary tale (directed towards myself rather than anyone else). Yesterday I proceeded with my routine of walking up the stairs out of the MUNI underground. I could take the escalator, but I don't. I'm pretty good at marching myself up the stairs to the tune of my iPod. By the time I get to the street level I feel accomplished, though slightly out of breath. Yesterday started like any ordinary morning, though I was slightly thrown off for it being Saturday. I won't blame that on what happened next. Hands in pocket, iPod blasting, I started up the stairs, but instead of the predictable clip-clop, clip-clop up the stairs, there suddenly came a ker-splat! It took a split second to assess that I had not broken or sprained anything. I managed to finally pull my hands out of my pocket and pick myself up. Instinctively I turned around (to see if there were any witnesses) and was met with an incredulous "Are you okay?" To which I managed a feeble, "yes."

I'm a klutz. If you didn't know that, ask me about my long list of injuries (none of which can be blamed on anyone else). Because I pride myself on a very put together self, each "accident" is a way of reminding me that hey, I don't have it all together. Yesterday was no different. I was later consoled by 3-year old Hannah who asked, "Is your leg okay?" (this after I explained Auntie Sherise's accident). She got out her toy medical kit and gave me a shot. I still have my bruises today, but manage to still be smiling about the whole thing.