Friday PM:
Having a decent afternoon at AStL. Yet I require to whine. I had to find the local Sam's Club to get bags for our sales. As I walked to the store, I stepped down from the curb, and apparently my toe caught on the curb. I began to pitch forward, so my pace quickened to attempt to bring me back to my full and upright position. Gravity and inertia are potent foes, and I hit the pavement with both knees. I managed to roll (good) onto my blown right shoulder (bad). I got up, and noticed a man hurrying up behind me, asking if I was all right. A couple of women passing by inquired same, and I assured them that the greatest hurt was my pride's.
This may have been incorrect.
As I walked to the door, my vision began to tunnel, and that keening sound filled my hearing. I sagged against the wall just inside the door, unobtrusively so as not to garner unwanted attention. A young black worker saw me, looked concerned and asked if I was OK, then offered to get water. I thanked him. I was concerned that I would honest to goodness pass out. I was apparently hurting more than my body was telling me, but I could not allow myself to keel over, because of the panic and the flashing lights and the glavin....
I decided to walk it off, so I got a cart and went in search of my bags. I breathed deeply as I walked and I got better. Boy, I hurt though. Almost feels like the morning after a car collision. "Maturity" ain't what it's cracked up to be.
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So now it is Saturday, and the aches have diminished somewhat, thanks to coal tar and wintergreen-scented goo.
So, Homestuckers fill the "useless eaters" category of fandom. They cluster in the aisles, buying nothing. They are like the virus that killed the tribbles. They don't buy...they just be.
This is it...I have Something of Note in the wings.
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1 comment:
Was beginning to wonder if the Ghost of T-Shirts Past had eaten you or something.
And be careful. Falling over twice . . . seriously . . . was perhaps the first sign that I would spend a week of 2011 in the hospital recovering from severe thrombocytopenia.
At our age when something hits it Hits!
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