Fall

I fell up the stairs on the subway platform this morning. It was a truly spectacular fall. Bodies everywhere!

Well... coffee everywhere. Either way, it marked a decisive end to an excellent pre-birthday long-weekend + birthday Tuesday.

I'm 28 now: the almost-30est pre-30 age with the exception of 29. I did wake up yesterday feeling more mature and level-headed (it's uncanny!) but I'm back to normal today. I would like to thank All of Facebook for setting a new standard in quantity of birthday wishes. I stopped counting around 30 (portent of the future?). Anyway, I've certainly lost touch with some lovely people.

I've spent the majority of the summer as a Level 70 Introspector, pondering my life over long sessions of Zelda and Mass Effect in an attempt to shed a routine of social coasting and serial monogamy. The result: rousing success. I feel refreshed, optimistic, and 15% more domestic. I was told that 27 is the age where even the most naysaying start to desire children. If that's the case, then I say that 28 is the age when even the most slovenly start keeping a home in which those children won't die of typhus.

Anyway, I realize there are a couple more weeks until the equinox, but I'm starting my autumn now because it's my favorite season, things are looking up, and I'm in a super good mood. So Happy Fall 2010!

Oh, but to finish my story, I fell up the stairs and spilled my coffee everywhere, and as I was trying to get back up I slipped and fell again, and I was in front of a whole crowd of people who couldn't get around me so all they could do is stand there and watch and then my shoe fell off.

Crash, Burn

I have a curse. Did you know? A real one. From a witch.

The witch in question is whatever ex-boyfriend I feel like blaming when the curse takes effect. The curse itself is that one time and only one time every winter, I will slip and fall spectacularly, injuring my tailbone and my pride in the process. EVERY WINTER! But just once!

This is me.

Last year, I was lucky because I slipped outside of the laundry room early on a Saturday, and nobody was around. Two years before that was the worst one emotionally because it happened when I had been looking for a parking space for 30 minutes and was already running late for my interview with the Indiana University musicology department. I was walking with serious purpose down the road in my new overcoat and cute outfit when I hit a patch of black ice and my legs FLEW into the air like a cartoon character! I landed flat on my back in SO much pain and SOAKED. So I entered my interview totally pissed off, which was only made worse because my first interviewer was a dickbag. Whatever, I got in the program anyway, which goes to show that I'm smarter than a sore ass.

Anyway, you may have guessed that this season's humiliating crash came today in a season I thought was safe because we have had NO ICE OR SNOW SO FAR! Turns out all I need is drizzle and a staircase.

Yes, a staircase. I fell down the stairs on the way to the subway this morning. Don't worry, I didn't tumble and break all my bones. It was more like the IU Interview Day fall where my legs flew out in front of me (WAAUGHH!) and I landed on my ass on the stairs... and slid down the last five. And cut my hand.

The woman behind me was really nice and made sure I was alright even though the fall made my umbrella open at her and she could have easily killed herself too. Another woman asked "Are you ok?" but walked by without waiting for an answer. I love that unique brand of New York compassion. Anyway, now my ass hurts again.

The worst part about a bruised tailbone is that it's impossible to sit comfortably. I've been shifting in my chair like I have hemorrhoids all day. Worse still, I have shoe crap all over my butt. At least I'm wearing ugly clothes today.

I choose to blame the Witch Ben, even though he's not a proper ex. He never called me back, so gets to be the asshole. I HOPE YOU BURN LIKE MY ASS!