dylan

Typing one handed and not in a good way.

Today on my way to work I fell flat on my face in the middle of the pavement. Well I guess not quite flat on my face as my school girl grazed knees and gravelly palms testify. Everything went a bit slow motion, slow enough for my brain to chip in with 'hey wow, this is gonna hurt!' and slow enough for me to notice the spindly branches creeping around the trunk above the roots of the tree pushing through the concrete in the ground int he place that I was about to acquaint with my face, but sadly not slow enough for me to spin some magical bullet time jiggery and spin myself athletically through a full figure of eight, backflip, dismount and back onto my feet.
A whippet thin lady with a stress strained face dragging a little girl in pigtails reluctantly to school and a man pushing a buggy leading a trio of rowdy boys stopped to help me up and ask if I was ok, help me gather my belongings which were scattered about the pavement and dust me off. I assured them in a sobby snotty quavering voice that I was fine sorry fine fine thank you so much sorry and then hobbled to work where I burst into big wobbly sobs and had lovely Rachel, designated first aider, sit me down and pick stones out of my hands and slather me with Savlon and ply me with hot sugary tea until I manned up and stopped crying like a four year old in the playground.
Obviously I'm fine, I just tripped over, I haven't done that quite so spectacularly since I went to Glastonbury years ago and tripped over the strap on my tent bag - unable to put my hands out to break my fall as I was carrying so much stuff I face-planted beautifully on the train platform in front of hundreds of people.
My left palm is really disgusting looking, it has chunks of floor stuck in it but hurts too much to remove them and I can't use my hand which is a proper pain in the, well, palm. And my knee is a violent shade of puce with marbled violet inflections and a lovely graze across the centre.

But basically my point is, this morning I was trying so hard to be at work on time and after all that, I was two minutes late. And had I not been hurrying I wouldn't have fallen and I wouldn't have slowed myself down and I wouldn't have been late so I should have not bothered to bother in the first place. So I guess what I'm trying to say is fuck going to work, do something fun instead.