one hundred and seventy nine

 

I got swept off my feet this afternoon. Literally. I fell down the stairs at the cinema complex near the coffee club. Converse are not good in the wet. I landed on my coccyx and slid down three for four stairs before coming to a pathetic halt. I couldn’t move. Even though every part of my being was telling me to get up. I couldn’t. Of course there were heaps of people in the coffee club. Most too embarrassed for me to offer any help. One lovely lady ran to me and the young boy behind (pardon the pun) the counter asked if I wanted an ice pack. I had to smile. It was one of those moments you think can’t really be happening, but fuck it was so sore, there was no doubt it had. So┬áthat is why tonight I am very grateful for the black pepper and clove heat pack I bought only this week, especially for muscular pain. Who knew.

one hundred and seventy six

 

Apparently I never put my feet up. I’m alway busy doing something even if its actually nothing (now thats a thought worthy of much discussion over many glasses of red wine). Anyway, I think its that relentless participation thing I suffer from. But I am getting better. I am. Today I put my feet up. Only because they looked so pretty. I’m not a colour on my toes kind of girl. I think it’s because I’m not good at maintenance. I’m too busy relentlessly participating. So today I am grateful for a wonderful hours indulgence and my pretty toes.