As you may recall, a few months ago I had a little accident. I still bear the scars on my knees. Growing up a ballerina - my body is used to poise and grace, not scrapes and bruises. I chaulked that incident up to wearing high heels and thick hems. But last Friday I was brutally reminded of my new found clumsiness.
Logic and I drove to Portland Thursday after work. We stayed with Paige that night and drove to Roseburg early the next morning. As we left Paige's, I hugged and kissed Allison goodbye, knowing I would see her again in a few hours. When I turned around for one final air-kiss I miscalculated the height of the doorstep and caught the tip of my sandal on the wood base. I tried to regain my balance, but the bag resting on my back flew forward and caused me to fall knees-first onto the cobblestone entry way.
Trying to hold it together so I didn't scare Allison, I laughed it off and headed to the car. But damn, it hurt like hell. My knees and ankles were torn up pretty badly, but more than that my ego was bruised.
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