Tripping.

Yesterday I had a dentist appointment in the morning. I left the office in the bright, crisp sunshine to walk the 5 or so blocks to the bus stop. I passed a block swarming with construction workers, all standing across the street from a big new building, staring up at it. Then, in the middle of the long block between 20th and 22nd, I crossed the empty street at the mid-street crosswalk.

I must have been walking briskly... but I somehow stubbed my toe, HARD, on the opposite side of the street, and went down flat. No stumble, no attempt at recovery, just WHUMP.

I landed hard on my right hand, my wrist folding under me, and my right knee, which hit a metal plate. In a split second I was lying flat out on the sidewalk.

It was stunning -- literally -- and I lay there for several seconds doing a small mental inspection. I was right in front of Skillet, and had a moment when I thought, "Someone will see me and rush out to see if I'm okay." Nope; they don't open till lunch. Dammit.

I made myself stand up, wincing as I pushed myself up with my right arm, which made me feel woozy. I could sense myself freaking out a little -- I just kept saying "slow down, breathe normally" but my level of panic was rising. I saw a bench about 30 feet away, in front of the little ice cream shop, and forced myself to walk to it. I figured I would rather pass out on a bench than from a standing position.

A few minutes before I had exchanged texts with my friend Dre'. As I sat down, I pulled my phone out and called her, hands shaking. She answered and I burst into tears, telling her what had happened, that I was okay, but I just needed to sit and talk to someone for a minute.

She was perfect -- making sure I was really okay, talking to me, even making me laugh.

I did another inspection. Bloody palm, with a chunk scraped out to it. Jeans with a scuff but no hole, but a suspiciously wet-feeling knee. Throbbing toe. Pounding heart.

I was too far from home... and already blocks from the dentist... so I just decided I needed to get on the bus and go to work.

It was still early, yet, which meant the bus was busy, and I spent the ride shaking a little, and trying to hide my bloody hand in my jacket sleeve. Ewww. But I got off the bus, got to work, went straight to the first aid box, and got cleaned up in the bathroom. Heck, I could even laugh at the story and told my coworkers about it.

But here's the truth: it was scary. So very, very scary.

It's 36 hours later and my wrist is super tender, nd now my shoulders and back feel crazy sore. I must have strained a few muscles at impact. My knee is still very, very sore (though less purple and swollen) -- it's painful to bend it, and the skin on my knee is badly scraped. How is that possible, when my jeans didn't tear?!?!

I told Wil this morning that I was really sore and achy, and he very sweetly pointed out that a woman who is almost 50 fell on the sidewalk yesterday. Ouch, man. I'm still in my MID-FORTIES, okay?

As an added bonus, I am planning on attempting something absurdly stupid this weekend and next. So stupid I can't bring myself to talk about it. Or write about it. Or even think about it. Because, well, it's STUPID.

I should hasten to add that it's nothing dangerous... just something that I got into my head that suddenly seems remotely possible. Or, at least, it did before I banged myself up. But we'll see, eh?