|This is not me, but she could play me in this story.|
No, I'm not going on that ridiculous show. I'm not that crazy.
But this WAS me on Saturday morning. Minus the large boxing glove.
Don and I were walking down the hill to the dog park when all of a sudden my feet slipped out from under me and I went down.
The fall literally stunned me.
My glasses and hat flew off. The poop bag I was carrying flew out of my hand and landed five feet away. I scraped my hand, knee, and shoulder.
Don was walking right behind me and practically tripped over me as I landed splat all over the sidewalk.
"Are you ok? Do you want to go home? he asked.
I just sat there.
And then I looked behind me where I had just been STANDING.
"No, I'm okay. Just give me a second." My knee was bleeding. My hand hurt. The pavement, gravel and dirt, had made little dents in my palm.
What the hell?
"I guess I didn't see that dip in the sidewalk where the driveway is." I said.
Don shook his head, "No, you were talking and didn't see the dirt. You were looking the other direction and slipped."
Damn dirt. They really need to sweep that up.
I finally got up and we started walking again. I was going to be really sore the next day. I could tell already.
"At least I didn't laugh at you." he snickered. "It's karma paying you back."
Really? Come on. It was a million years ago that I laughed at you trip over the tree root. I saw it walking behind you, you didn't, and your foot got caught under the gnarly thing causing you to faceplant into the dirt. I'm SURE I asked if you were okay before I laughed.
I'm positive about that.
Plus, hello, it was 1997. Karma acts way faster than that. I must have done something else more recently.
Let's not go there.
Fortunately, I wasn't really hurt. No broken bones. Just scrapes and soon-to-be bruises.
"This is EXACTLY why I don't ski!" I declared.
If I can't walk down a hill without hurting myself, there is no way I'm getting on skis.
End of story.