What, you thought I'd talk about Valentine's Day?
Last night I stumbled while I was trying to sit down and fell, wickedly thumping my right hand. I didn't break my little finger, but it's still unpleasant. And I can feel it all up my forearm, and my ankle's tender, and I'm grateful that I didn't throw out my back, especially since I tripped today at work and toppled over.
Let's not laugh at the slapstick turn my life is taking right now, shall we? Well, okay, maybe a little. But it occurs to me that as a youngster, I'd shake off this kind of stuff without a thought. Hell, I even managed to hide the slight damage that happened when my horse fell on me. But now...now every little thing aches.
And I protest, darn it!
I'm almost 50. I've finally learned that I'm not invincible, with or without tequila, and that bran muffins are good, and that sometimes you have to do things you don't want to because it's the right thing to do. So can't I at least be clumsy without feeling more than just silly? But no, oh no. Silly and in pain.
But then life is a little odd sometimes. I told a telemarketer today at work that we didn't want her services, and after questioning whether or not I was authorized to make those kinds of decisions (I am, we all are, they just piss my boss off), she later called back to tell me that I hurt her feelings.
Honestly, sometimes I think my life is just surreal.
Okay, I'm gonna go check the fire. It's supposed to get cold tonight (no snow for us but it happened at the other end of Seattle, so some kids got snow days), and the fireplace offsets those pesky heating bills. But I'm gonna be careful. With my current track record, I'll bop myself in the nose with the wood when I put it into the stove. Wish me luck!
Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day. Or Happy Un-Valentine's Day. Whichever.
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