TIM-BERRRRR!!!!!

A wild storm raced through our fair town Friday night. The next afternoon I walked about the neighborhood, surveying the damage--mostly just limbs--until I came to a spot in the street littered with branches, as though something bigger had recently been there. I kept walking but looked around and spotted what was once a cedar tree in a nearby yard. Then, ooops! My right foot got caught up in a small branch and I came tumbling down.

“Ouch!!” I said aloud after I landed on my right side. “Son of a bitch!”

I got to my hands and knees to get my wits about me, thinking maybe someone would come to my assistance, but the two closest houses are vacant, so I ditched the idea of being a clumsy woman in distress, picked myself up, and assessed the damage. One scuffed up right hand, one bruised, scraped right elbow, and an aching upper right thigh/hip that took the brunt of the fall. Thanks to my abundant built-in padding, there would be no visible damage there. No point in pulling my shorts down for a closer inspection until I got home.

Well, Sunday’s walking expedition took me past the same route, but this time I had my Lord and Protector Big Bore to keep me out of harm’s way. I showed him the scene of the crime, and then he pointed out some ancient large dents in the asphalt nearby.

“Looks like the street got hurt more than you did. We’d better call the city to report that repairs are needed. Next time, you’ll watch where your size 10s are going and you won’t be gawking.”

Ha-ha. Go ahead. Make fun of my clumsiness. Add a bruised ego to my damage assessment. See if I care. Ego? What’s an ego? Heck, I have no ego. It took a tumble long ago and hasn’t been seen since.