Reliving my childhood?
Yesterday, on the way back to the car after a fun afternoon ogling snakes with
latzoni and
kenazf, while crossing a large, traffickish, highwaysome sort of a street with
projectmothra, I tripped on nothing-in-particular, sending my shoes flying into the crosswalk, and bringing my son, who was tightly holding my hand as requested, down with me. I managed to get us both back on to the sidewalk and collect my shoes before the light changed, so all was well. He wasn't hurt at all, but I ended up skinning my knee.
I don't think I've had this injury in particular since my age had double digits. And you know what? It hurts. A bunch. More than I would think, considering. I'm not whining about it, really -- it's just a dull stingy sort of thing -- but it's been around 18 hours since I did it, and I didin't expect it to still be commanding attention.
Pretty snakes, though. I am coveting a Columbian boa again.
I don't think I've had this injury in particular since my age had double digits. And you know what? It hurts. A bunch. More than I would think, considering. I'm not whining about it, really -- it's just a dull stingy sort of thing -- but it's been around 18 hours since I did it, and I didin't expect it to still be commanding attention.
Pretty snakes, though. I am coveting a Columbian boa again.
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The cut? Did not hurt at all. The scrape? Fuckin' OW, man.
(This was when I was much younger. So the language would have been different. But the sentiment wasn't!)
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