With the grace of a swan ...

... or perhaps a maimed monkey. I slipped my Crocs on this morning (easier than Velcro sandals) as I was leaving my parents' house — my bed still has about a foot of stuff piled on top due to bathroom renovation — and, ignoring the slight rain, opened the front door to go back to my house. All of a sudden, I had this strange sensation that I was falling. Next thing I knew, I was on my ass at the bottom of their concrete steps.

See, I've had my Crocs so long that the tread has worn out. In fact, I'm fairly certain they have some non-friction properties by now. So non-friction that sometimes I slide a little when the ground is dry. This being the case, it doesn't terribly surprise me that I nearly ended up baring my backside to all of Christendom the neighbors. Because did I mention I was wearing a skirt? Same skirt as that time I got a flat tire in the Jeep. Obviously it's cursed.

Also I think I hurt one of my knuckles, though I can't fathom how. Must've smacked my hand on the metal railing. But you know, I think that, had I buns o' steel instead of buns o' flesh, it probably would have hurt more. So here's to my buns o' flesh! (I really can't believe I just said that, but I'm so not deleting it.)