I fell on the ice exactly two weeks ago and I have been to shame-ridden to admit it. I didn’t just kinda fall. I really fell. I did a Charlie Chaplin fall. Walking to my car and right where the driveway is at its steepest, a fresh layer of snow hid the ice. Both feet went up to just about where my head usually is. I was, like, horizontal.
And you know… and you know, it wouldn’t have been so bad except that my computer bag was underneath me. And landing on a bag is not always the worst. What is the worst is landing on the point of the computer, breaking the freakin’ new macBook , and breaking MY FREAKIN’ BACK.
But luckily, I did not break my back. After a hospital visit, it was announced (a useful use of the passive here) that I have a deep tissue bruise and also/possibly a deep muscle bruise. Simply put, I have a bruised rib, even though as any fool with an MD knows, you can’t really bruise the bone, but you can bruise all the crap around the bone.
For the past 15 days, I have wondered if I can do the Birkie this year. I was on track to pulverize last year’s time. But now. Maybe I will have to sell my spot.
Don’t weep for me…yet.