Don't laugh. It's true. I think my shoes are out to get me.
I thought it was a fluke when I tripped and fell in the middle of the flat crosswalk in Janurary. Well, if you can call it a "fluke" for someone who routinely walks into tables and doorways and can never remember where 1/2 the bruises on her body came from.
But today, today they tried to get me not once, but TWICE! The first time was at work. I turned around, tripped on my chair and almost went down in front of my desk. Haha. Too much booze in Brazil. Yeah right.
But tonight, they were out for blood! The bus stopped its route early, letting us off at 7th St instead of 16th. I get up, walk down the stairs of the bus and next thing you know *SPLAT*! I'm on the ground. All I could think was "don't hit your face! Don't hit your face!" I went down on one knee (thank god for thick demin or I'd have more than red skin and bruising), scrapped up both hands and my right elbow. Luckily there wasn't any blood, just a lot of scrapping, burning and now the body aching has started.
At least this time two people checked to see if I was okay. The bus driver came out of the bus — I mean, he better. I FELL OUT OF HIS BUS. And another rider came over to make sure I was okay. Of course, all this meant that I missed the 19 bus by 1/2 a block and then the next one refused to pick me up because there was another a few minutes behind it.
But goddamn. I loved these shoes. They were my favorite everyday shoes. And now I'm afraid to wear them again. They are evil bits of leather that want me dead. I guess I will have to go shopping for a new pair of everyday shoes. Something with less of a heel than a Dansko!?!
I'm going to go find the Advil...
