Elbow, interrupted: Dedicated to fourteen-year-old me who thought bruises were like, so beautiful.
So, Saturday night, a very sober me wiped out magnificently down the basement steps and not an hour later I very nearly fell down another set of steps but managed to catch myself on the handrail before I further bruised the quickly blooming bruise already on my ass. I have been subject to Dick Van Dyke-ian pratfalls left and right these days and can't for the life of me figure out why I can't cross a room without ending up like ice skating Bambi.
This morning in getting dressed and ready I rolled my ankle not once but twice walking around my room. My mother would say that this is because I have things all over the floor, but I reject that explanation because up until a couple of weeks ago I was very deft at maneuvering around all the things on my floor.
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