Unsafe at Different Speeds.
Jul. 23rd, 2013 07:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogIt's fairly common for us to refer to ourselves as "Mr. & Mrs. Clumsy" (or worse) after our all-too-frequent pratfalls. Today brought more than the usual blend of them.
Eleanor fell off a treadmill at the gym this afternoon. She's okay, but has a pretty nasty looking bruise on one thigh, a combination of color from the actual fall and from "road rash" contributed by the belt itself after the wipeout. Fellow cardio-ettes were attentive and helped her up and back to the land of okay.
For my part, I took the longer approach to clumsy. I had to be out relatively early for a day of out-of-town appointments, and before leaving, I could not find my glasses for love or money. Worse still, the missing ones were my backup pair: my most recently prescribed ones had been missing since May (give or take a week), and I'd all but given up on finding them. This morning's most recent casualties of my ongoing case of CRS are an oversized pair of aviators from (I think) the late Clinton Administration that, thankfully, I'd simply never bothered to throw out or donate to the Lions' Club.
And now they were nowhere to be found. The cruel irony of trying to look for glasses when you don't have them, and all. But no matter; I still had sunglasses safely stowed in the car, and they kept me legal both there and back today, but I was determined to find the damn things after I got home not quite two hours ago.
Never did. But. After I got home, I decided to take a turn at playing Sherlock (and/or Martin), and, you know, having taken away all the things that can't possibly have happened, I supposed the only thing that's left, even though it seems really weird, must be the thing that did happen in fact! So I pulled out my now-overfull laundry basket to rifle through it to see if the aviators had fallen out of the sky and into the wash. They hadn't, but behind the now-vacant hole on the closet floor where the basket was? My most recent prescription, covered with cat hair and webwobs, joyously restored to me after lo these almost two months!
I was so excited I spilled a half-full wine glass all over the side of my desk, but even that was full of Win. I didn't damage anything truly important, and that, frankly, is the kind of accident it takes these days to clear all the useless bar journals and note-covered envelopes and other crap off my desktop.
Maybe I'll even find where Douglas hid the Talisker back there somewhere;)
Eleanor fell off a treadmill at the gym this afternoon. She's okay, but has a pretty nasty looking bruise on one thigh, a combination of color from the actual fall and from "road rash" contributed by the belt itself after the wipeout. Fellow cardio-ettes were attentive and helped her up and back to the land of okay.
For my part, I took the longer approach to clumsy. I had to be out relatively early for a day of out-of-town appointments, and before leaving, I could not find my glasses for love or money. Worse still, the missing ones were my backup pair: my most recently prescribed ones had been missing since May (give or take a week), and I'd all but given up on finding them. This morning's most recent casualties of my ongoing case of CRS are an oversized pair of aviators from (I think) the late Clinton Administration that, thankfully, I'd simply never bothered to throw out or donate to the Lions' Club.
And now they were nowhere to be found. The cruel irony of trying to look for glasses when you don't have them, and all. But no matter; I still had sunglasses safely stowed in the car, and they kept me legal both there and back today, but I was determined to find the damn things after I got home not quite two hours ago.
Never did. But. After I got home, I decided to take a turn at playing Sherlock (and/or Martin), and, you know, having taken away all the things that can't possibly have happened, I supposed the only thing that's left, even though it seems really weird, must be the thing that did happen in fact! So I pulled out my now-overfull laundry basket to rifle through it to see if the aviators had fallen out of the sky and into the wash. They hadn't, but behind the now-vacant hole on the closet floor where the basket was? My most recent prescription, covered with cat hair and webwobs, joyously restored to me after lo these almost two months!
I was so excited I spilled a half-full wine glass all over the side of my desk, but even that was full of Win. I didn't damage anything truly important, and that, frankly, is the kind of accident it takes these days to clear all the useless bar journals and note-covered envelopes and other crap off my desktop.
Maybe I'll even find where Douglas hid the Talisker back there somewhere;)
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no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 11:40 pm (UTC)(It's in one of my tote bags, packed to take to Ohio.)
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 11:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-24 04:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-24 12:10 pm (UTC)(Amusingly, Talisker is made on the Isle of Skye, so reasonably apropos for the setting!)