They were and I'm so not. I think I have a touch of writer's ED.
Or a concussion.
Earlier today, I fell on my 41 year old lady behind in front of Deputy Pretty in my office...and it was way funny. I'm falling down even more than usual lately. Perhaps I've had a tiny stroke that didn't register on the Richter Scale. Come to think of it, that might explain my sudden and admittedly odd desire to eat chalk and lick grocery store carts.
I was just sitting in a chair behind the secretary's desk. It's not like I was making any sudden moves or about to do a fire baton routine or something. I was simply sitting. I've done it before without incident, so you can see why I was at least reasonably sure I could do it today.
There was no loud noise behind me and if memory serves, he didn't yell "Boo!" for no good reason. All I know is that one minute we're talking about life and twenty-something girls and kidney stones and the next, I'm lying flat on my back and he's standing over me asking if I'm ok...in between laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
I'm nothing if not graceful. A friggin swan is what I am.
The thing is, I suffered the same sad fate only days ago. I was on the phone with the evil red-headed Berta Lou and much like today, was not attempting any sort of intricately choreographed chair dance, when like a drunk on COPS, I fell right out of the chair and onto the floor.
And it hurt. And I almost cried. And my knee was bruised. And I hurt my toe so badly I thought for sure I would not be able to wear my red hooker shoes to work the next day.
Thankfully my Mother instilled values in this OCD Chick. I overcame the pain and managed to wear the shoes...which is what's important.
I'm gonna go watch TV and munch on some chalk. Maybe I'll start out on the floor. No sense in setting the bar too high.
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