Chicks-n-Scratching

I evidently need either a full-time spotter or a bubble-wrap suit. Possibly both.

Two weeks ago, I was standing on my stairs and I, for reasons unknown, lost my footing. I did two (evidently graceful) back flips down the stairs before landing in a (definitely not graceful) heap. In an astonishing stroke of good fortune, I walked away from that with a bruised knee, some bumps and bruises (especially on my hip) and a couple of broken toes. Given how badly that could have gone, I count that as a victory.

But was that enough for me? No.

Last week – last Friday, in fact – I was going down my front steps. I stepped on a sweet gum ball. My right foot flew out, my arms pinwheeled, I pitched forward, and landed, full on, sideways on my left ankle. I heard a sickening pop. I knew this was going to be bad.

It turns out that I managed not to break it. I have a horrific sprain and probably a popped tendon. I’m on crutches. I don’t have time for this crap. *sigh*

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!

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