Everyone gets so scared of Friday the 13th. I do NOT understand why. Let me tell you, it was a lovely day for me. Just lovely. It was busy. That's the day I booked it home to be with the kids. It took a little while longer, but it was all around an AMAZING day. Yet people freak out like the universe is going to come spiraling down or something. What they don't realize is that that could happen any day!
Yesterday was that day. I was on edge a little anyway because I missed working out the night before. Things were okay at work, but not running smoothly. Poor Roy did a fabulous job despite the extra workload that got dumped on him. Anyway, after a stream of nonclimatic yet just not fabulous events, I finally made it home at 9. Not daring to miss another day of work out, and incapable of doing one of my DVD's since I lent out my laptop, I decided that running at night in the city isn't usually a good idea, but sometimes you have to just risk it.
I no longer worry about betting mugged or hit on. No, I found that its the sidewalk that will get you. Almost exactly halfway through my loop (too far to turn back) my foot caught on sidewalk where the level was different...and I went down like the Titanic. Dont worry, it was on a busy street but thankfully no one stopped as I just stayed on the ground, wondering how many people had just witness my completely ungraceful, fully sprawled spread eagle slide across the concrete. And that was where it began. I HAD to keep going to get home at a humane hour, despite the scratched, bleeding body parts, sore knees, and holes in my pants.
From them I managed to not only drop my keys outside my apartment, but have them fly from the keychain in every direction. Not only electrocuted myself trying to hook up the DVD player for my yoga dvd, but unplugged the internet. Brian, who was hungry, caffeine deprived, and in the middle of gaming was just pleased. The fact that my head is still attatched to my body is a testament to itself that he really does love me. So then I gave up and fell asleep still in my ripped up pants watching sex and the city on the couch, that turns out is actually more comfortable that my bed (a completely OTHER story from the moving weekend of torture). BUT it turns out to punish me for scratching it during my tumble, my phone shut itself off. So running late, and after a painful shower with fresh wounds, here I am at work, counting down the hours left til the weekend. And as I look at my now sandpaper hands, scraped up elbow, sad looking phone, feel the pounding in my head, and feel my bruised knees when I walk, I just feel super beautiful and graceful. And my pants are still tight from the last round of emotionalness, so chocolate is off limits. Friday the 13th has NOTHING on me!
(Sorry to complain, but sometimes you just have to.)