Okay... here's the story. And yes, it's funny. Kind of. At least, people keep laughing, so...
Yesterday morning I was up around 3. In bed 'till 4, but up at 3.
And then Jane started crying. So, I took her downstairs, got settled in my chair with my computer on my lap, near my bible, hoping that she'd fall asleep on my shoulder like she often does and I could both read and write (one handed-hunt-and-peck, but still...).
No dice.
She slept, but only fitfully and never enough for me to actually do much more than just read some news on the internet. Even picking up my Bible distracted her too much. She wanted to hold it and read with me- something I'll be grateful for later in life, but not yesterday morning.
So, strike one was looking like death warmed over from lack of sleep.
Then...
Some of you know that I have a boss pair of Heelies. Some of you have made fun of me for said Heelies. Well, who cares what you all think. I got me a pair of shoes with wheels in them! Yeah. Compare me to a nine-year-old girl all you want... As someone said to me today, I'll beat you from one side of the mall to the other every time.
Anyway, I fell.
There's a big hill near our house, and I often Heelie on down it, stopping two or three times on the way so as not to build up too much momentum.
Let's just say I should have stopped at least one more time. I was moving pretty good, and a rock came out of nowhere. Just jumped right in front of me. I had no choice but to lay it down right then and there. On my face.
Hands, face, knees... I got up pretty quickly, went to where the dog had run off to (and no, he didn't even slow down- showed no concern whatsoever...), made sure he was okay and then sat down on the path and just tried not to faint.
I tend to go into shock pretty easily when I take a hit (yes, I'm a nine year old girl. I get it!) and the tunnel vision set in pretty quick. I didn't actually pass out, but it was about five minutes before I could even move, and when I stood up, I wretched three times...
So, strike 2 was the fact that my face looked as though I had been in a fight- cuts on my lip, my cheek, bruised eye...
And strike 3 was everything else. The hat that Tarver mentioned which luckily took the job of being scraped badly from my forehead. The 12 year old jacket I was wearing. The gray t-shirt and jeans. I've been slacking lately in the fashion department, going days without shaving... So when I was told "You look like a homeless guy today", I think I probably earned it. Actually, even before said "homeless" comment, I had had the same thought (and no, dude, I wasn't offended. :)
But... that was a good kick in the rear/ I really need to start dressing a bit less...uh... less. And a bit more... more. You know? I'm not going metro by any stretch. But I suppose shaving every day and button down shirts won't kill me. I guess I can lose the hat, too.
But I'm keeping the Heelies.
Just so you know.
