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  • Yay. I fell down the stairs, on Saturday. Yay. I stepped off the fifth step or was it the fourth step from the bottom and my leg did not hit the floor, as my brain fart thought it was going to, and yay, I lifted up and scraped down along the wall, I hit the bricks, literally. Old 100 year brick all ragged and rugged and sticky-outey now has enough of my skin samples and DNA for a full season of CSI: Klutz. Blood, yeah. Arm hair samples. Uh-huh. Elbow grease. Flapadoodle Saturday afternoon.

    We were all set for a walk down the street in the sunshine. I had just downloaded a fancy fun Metronome app to walk to a beat. "This is going to be fun," .....when Klutzerama here went sailing though the air. No jib, but my left wing picking up brick dust, exfoliating, if I may say, as I sailed. And I say: yay.

    ....I say yay because once upon a time I fell down ONE stair. What ignominy. And that time, I broke my tailbone. Think Christian Bale in the movie "The Mechanic," the guy who did not sleep for one year. I did not sleep for one year. I never slept for more than 20 minutes at a time, when that one step off broke my tail. It did, however, give me the great chance, when my doctor told me they couldn't put my snapped tail in a cast, to opine, "Aw, Doc, you mean you can't put my ass in a sling?" ....

    So bandaged, out we went for that walk. My husband had knee replacement surgery six weeks ago, and I have been wearing the new hat of Coach. Coaching the intensive hours a day exercises he has to do, coaching the biometrics of his learning to walk again, taking on all the household chores we share; happily intense, as he graduated from two canes to one cane, Coach Susie-Q has instructed with precision how---to place your foot.

    So D's bionic titanium new knee was waiting downstairs for me and I the Coach went flying, showing how it is done by the extremely abled. You pretend four steps are as one and you grate the meat off your arm and elbow adding a dressing of mortar and brick dust.

    Out to the street.

    We walked the walk, with the Metronome on my phone, tick tock tick tock, four beats to the bar, two clicks to the beat, tick tock tick tock, and I said as we ticktocked the sidewalk, "You know, I could have broken my neck and you'd be just recovering and I'd be dead. Or I could have broken my back. Or my ankle again, or broken my arm. I might disappear from Cowbird in a crumple, and nobody would know I expired, a leaden lump dreaming of the fun of a regular beat."

    So then I said, "Honey, you want to try and walk the last block with no cane at all?" And he did. Tick tock tick tock. First time walking with no limp, no pain, in years. Me in my new bandages, him in his new knee.

    Yay. It's a saved by the grace of you tell me klutz on the run (bloody) bliss day.

    Tick tock, wing dinged. Tick tock no ass in a sling. Tick tock a wing and a prayer. Rollin' and Tumblin' a tick tock ring. Wing a ding ding. Yay tick tock, I'm intact and it rained all Sunday. Bebopping the wall peel like a cloddish Metro gnome.

    (Photo by Susan, leaves I picked up Saturday morning, before the fall, October 12, 2013)
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