My knees are officially going to quit me

If you’re reading this, odds are you know me; and if you know me then you probably know I tend to fall, a lot, almost an obscene amount. Usually it is a once a week occurrence. Other times, sadly it more frequent. Today, however, was cherry on the sundae of my career in falling.

 

First two falls – Recycling removal. While bringing out all the lovely memories of the past weekend I bent over to grab a PBR can that had fallen. Worn down sneaker meet snow covered plastic tiling. Knees meet the floor. Face meet the stove. Result of all these lovely introductions: I am going to kill the owner of the PBR can, my knees hate me and I have a slight fat lip going on.

Second fall re-entering the kitchen to grab my cereal bar. Take a digger into the cupboards. FML.

 

So the day proceeds to be a hot mess. I spill coffee, knock over signs in the cafe and fall twice more on the walk home, once on our concrete front steps. 

 

It’s now almost 4pm and I’m limping my way through campus attempting to get to my class in which i will be giving an hour long presentation. My knees are black and blue and my ego is just as bruised. Who comes around the corner but oh yeah, center of my awkward universe. GREAT. This is just who I need to see right now. We walk by each other, say the usual “Hey, what’s up/How have you been?” I proceed to walk away thinking, I actually survived this, and take one last look backwards. That was my mistake.

 
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At this exact moment a car proceeds to back out quickly and of course hit me. I’m not looking, they’re not looking. Bumper meet my thigh. Result, I wind up face-down in a mud-puddle. 

I’m wet, covered in mud, and am facing an 80-year-old woman apologizing profusely. Not to mention I have to go present to 20 people.

 

Save me.

 

I am now going to go lie in bed and ice my knees and vow to never again leave the safety of my own home.