I've got a whopper for you, folks. I'm sitting in the grass by Old Main right now, waiting for the shuttle to take me back to my apartment so I can change into my pj's and gawk at the numerous bruises and cuts which I know I will find under my clothes. Did I trip today, you ask? No. But, man, did I eat it.
I was on my bike, pulling onto the bike lane from the dirt path in front of the Chemistry building, when disaster struck in full force. My front tire didn't make it up the small bump onto the sidewalk. It caught, sending it (and me) soaring across the pavement and into the sharp rocks on the other side. Let me tell you, this fall literally blew me right out of my shoes. Really, they flew. Almost as if they had tiny wings. Like a fairy. If I'd been wearing socks, I'm sure they would've been knocked off, too.
(One day later)
Needless to say (then why am I saying it, you ask? Why, to annoy you, of course), I was somewhat reluctant to mount my bike this morning. You'll be sad to know (or happy, depending on how sadistic you are), I've got nasty bruises galore. It's actually rather impressive - my left knee bears a remarkable resemblance to an unripened plumb. The world seems to know it, too; I can't tell you how many times my knees have been bumped, jarred, and veritably pummeled. Small whimpers abounded. In hindsight, I suppose arriving early to a class of over 200 and choosing and isle seat wasn't the best plan. But what else is a lefty to do?
Stay upright, dear readers, and have a wonderful day!
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