Ouch

I am a goddess of grace and coordination. I float through my days delicately and sure-footed, capable of making even the most dangerously whimsical shoes look comfortable and steady. I glide over obstacles like a butterfly and negotiate treacherous paths of ancient cobblestone with ease. Not.

I trip over air. Sometimes I am walking, and then I am not. For no discernible reason whatsoever. Handrails on stairs are the only things that have saved me from head-over-heels death. Thresholds at doors can put me on the ground, and I have memories (and scars) from falls I’ve taken in most cities that I’ve visited around the world. In short, I am a klutz. Big time.

I have spent my afternoon today with my legs propped on pillows to elevate my knees, using frozen dried ebony black-eye peas for ice packs, and zoning out on Lortab. Why? I don’t really know. I was walking into work, wearing my trusty squishy not-far-from-the-ground Crocs (with the little squirrel thingy through one of the holes because I am that mature). I was doing just fine, sipping my sweet tea from McDonalds (I know – I shouldn’t have.), and then I wasn’t.

I reached the row of pretty shiny tiles between the lobby and my cubicle row, and my feet did not go the direction they were supposed to. While some people with my coordination level learn over the years to at least land well, I have never developed that skill. And today was no exception. I hit knees first on the pretty tiles. Followed by elbows. Followed by wrists. My sweet tea exploded into fragments of styrofoam and flying ice cubes on impact. I did not avoid the blast.

After the horrified looks and help up from my coworkers, I made it to my desk with every intention of sticking out the day. Except that my right knee started swelling instantly. And it was numb. And it has a cute raised plus sign where it hit just where the tiles crossed. And I was sticky. Stupid sweet tea. But I was telling myself that my pride hurt more than anything else. After all, nothing was turning a truly alarming shade of purple. I was ok until the numbness started wearing off.

After all of my various clumsiness-induced injuries, migraines, and arthritis, I think I have a pretty high pain tolerance. But I was having a hard time not crying because my stupid knee hurt so bad. So I wussed out. I came home, and I have been pathetic ever since. The dog does not understand why his tiny 90 pound self can’t sit in mommy’s lap today. The cats have taken advantage of my supine state. My sweet husband bought me cupcakes from Muddy’s.

It’s all good except for the whole ouch part. And seriously, even with pain medicine, ouch.

The Power of Love Is a Curious Thing
Olde Town Inn, New Orleans