Jeez. This morning as I hurried up the stairs to the train platform, I tripped on the leg of my wide leg pants and fell UP the stairs.
Banged the ever loving SHIT out of my knee. Actually, I landed all fours on the edge of the step, but only my left hand and right knee got any real damage. The knee is a bit swollen, bruised and scraped, but luckily no permanent damage (beside,s of course, my dignity.)
There were people behind me on the steps and as I fell, I cursed rather loudly and vigorously in English. One guy was all, "Are you ok?" and then a woman, behind him, said "Do you need a Band Aid?" That sort of made me giggle in the midst of my pain and chagrin. As an American, of COURSE I would need a Band Aid, wouldn't I? Don't Band Aids cure everything for us? I assured her I could survive without being taped back together with the American Cure for Ouch.
But I was pissy as hell all day, only semi-cured by a shopping trip and retail therapy.
Oh, and wine.
Ahem.
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