Pride Goeth!

Today I stopped at Meijer (which is like a massive Supertarget kind of place, for those of you who haven't been to Michigan) to pick up some things before teaching my evening class. There I was, impressive in my classy work clothes: the black suit with the long jacket and a white collar, high-heeled clompy shoes, severe professorial demeanor, etc. (think "Snape"). I strode along imperiously, clomping down the wide aisle at nearly six feet tall in my heels, utter scornful mistress of the supermarket.

And then, for no apparent reason, I totally wiped out. I mean, I completely hit the floor like a Jenga stack. And in front of a lot of people innocently shopping for socks or whatever. Phenomenologically, it seemed to occur very slowly (as those events do) and in stages, but inexorably, like a cartoon of a giant being felled.

I've heard that when women trip, they usually try to act like nothing happened, while men actually look behind themselves as if some dang thing back there MADE them trip and goshdarnit they're mad at it. Well, I'm also a looker-behinder. Stupid floor!

I think I muttered something about something being slippery, and then rushed off, trying hard to not notice the bonked quality of my left knee as concerned bystanders asked (more than one asked) if I was okay. It must have been a spectacular fall, for people to actually ask.

Sheesh.

Also, a filling flang itself out of my tooth today when I was flossing.

What next?


*I had to change the title for reasons of accuracy.