Morning of Doom

I fell down when I walked the dogs this morning; stumbled on some broken pavement while they yanked me hither and thither and down I went, twisting my right ankle, crunching my left elbow, hurting my right wrist and really seriously fucking up my left knee. I lay there in all the scree and crumbled paving and whimpered for a few moments while dogs all over the neighborhood went nuts (my own unruly pair were miraculously good for once in their mangy lives and stayed right there, trying to sit on me.) Then I got up and limped home, realizing as I went that I had really done it this time.

Came home, bandaged knee, daughter said, "Whoa, Mom. . ." when she looked at the knee, which had grown a fascinating new knee on top of itself, took shower, rebandaged knee, whimpered, got dressed, drove downtown (painful), went to post office (painful) and went to pay my water bill since it's about to be shut off. It used to be fairly simple to get into the City/County building and pay your water bill. There used to be lots of 15 minute parking around there. It never was a problem. But in their infinite wisdom and the new park they're building around the Courthouse, all those parking spaces have been eliminated as has the drive by box where you could leave your water bill payment and there was nowhere - no, nowhere - to park within a 7 block radius. But, you know, the tourists are going to love the new fucking park. I went and parked at my reserved space 7 blocks away and walked it. Painful. Waaaaaaaaaay painful.

Then I hiked slowly and lopsidedly on back to work, stopping for coffee where, naturally, they were out of French roast, which is the point at which I very nearly cried but the nice, nice lady at Sisters McMullen made a new pot for me. Now I'm at work; my knee hurts like crazy and it's making me a bit dizzy and in half an hour I have to go back down some stairs and already I'm not sure if I can do it. What a fucking morning. As far as I know there's nothing that can be done for knees anyway, is there? I could go get it xrayed for a million dollars, I guess, and then what? Be told to stay off it, probably. Argh. Sheesh. And a million other expletives. I hate accidents. I hate the way you can be just walking along, zoning out and suddenly your whole day and possibly week or month or year gets all fucked up just out of the blue, like a Monty Python foot coming down.