Monday, November 8, 2010

Folly

Today I am a grumpy bump.
nov 8 2010


I think it partially has to do with my shoulder and neck hurting from a recent run-in with a flight of stairs. It was karma, really. I was running up the stairs with a co-worker in tow and she commented how I should be careful on the stairs in my heels. I pfft-ed her and said “Oh I can do anything in heels” and thus taunted the gods. Less than a minute later I was coming back down the stairs thinking to myself how I used to be afraid of these skinny, slippery stairs... And then I fell. It was only about 4 stairs but it was the top four. I had to catch myself from tumbling down the remaining 7 by wrenching my arms behind me. Awesome. 

cardi: Smart Set
dress: Joe Fresh
sash: Le Chateau
tights: We Love Colours
shoes: Fly London

I have a history of stupid things happening to me. Once upon a time a horse farted on me. I was enjoying a leisurely mid-afternoon walk in the English countryside. The sun was shining, the breeze off the sea was salty and brisk. I sat on my favourite bench overlooking a field of sheep. It was an idyllic afternoon. As I made my way back home I walked by a corral where a lovely horse resided. Usually he was at the far side but on this fateful day he was near that fence beside the path. As I’m a bit afraid of horses (have you seen their eyes? They are enormous!) readied myself to tiptoe past trepidatiously. As I was about to pass him he looked over his shoulder, blinked at me innocently with his massive eyes, lifted his tail and proceeded to fart right in my face! It was everywhere! And the smell wouldn’t come out of my hair. I’m pretty sure it changed the texture for a few days. It was horrifying.

I also had the misfortune of being caught on a door. I was running out the door to let my dog outside when the handle of the door slid under my ring. I was jerked back and off my feet, hanging by my hand from the door. By the time I was able to get to my feet my hand had swollen up around the handle and the ring and I wasn’t able to remove my hand. Finally I squeezed my  finger enough to pop it off the handle and I was once again a free woman. In pain, bleeding, numb but free. That’s when the phone rang to tell me that I wasn’t going to get the job I applied for. Bad day.

This past winter I managed to close the door of my father’s truck onto my fingers. The door was completely closed so I had to reach around my writhing body to unlatch it. Thank goodness I didn’t lock it. Luckily I was wearing mittens which seemed to provide some cushioning and no bones were broken. So that night, in consolation, I booked a trip to Cuba with one hand while the other was resting on a bag of frozen peas...

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