if i wasn’t at work, i’d have been sobbing about an hour ago. ya know…right about the time i tripped over my open desk drawer and smashed my shin, procuring an instant bruise of green & red & blood & ouch that stretched for about 8 inches. i considered taking a picture of the injury, but unshaved legs don’t lend nicely to that. (you’re welcome for the visual.)

first thought: i might throw up. can you throw up from pain?
second thought: oh great. now how will i run tonight?

okay, so maybe i’d still be crying now, even after the ice and elevation and extensive whining to anyone who happened to be online at the time — including my mom, who always says exactly what i need to hear:

me: i just smashed my shin and i think i might die.
mom: you won’t die. well, not right now at least.
me: i think i might, actually.
mom: maybe take the rest of the day off and go lay down?

ah, now we’re talking. love when we think alike. however, i doubt corporate America would consider a near-death experience bruised and bleeding shin an adequate reason to take the afternoon off, so i’m settling for a cup of ice, a consolitory second cup of blueberry coffee, and a lot of complaining.

if i were at my last job and something like this happened, the subsequent moments would have looked more like this:

first the inevitable natural girl reaction…

then some instinctive vocal annoyance to make everyone within hearing distance aware of my predicament…

finally, resorting to my go-to position for unpleasant moments at work (which involves me beneath my cubicle desk).

once i make it through those stages of pity-party, hyperbolic agony, i generally end up something like this:


a little prickly and painful to be around, looking as pitiful as i feel, with a conspicuously attended-to wound that i happen to find makes a great conversation piece.

and yes — i’ve always been a tad on the dramatic side. i believe in keeping things interesting.

*note to everyone at my last job: i miss your comraderie, sympathy and tolerance at times like these. i even (almost) miss Frank’s all-in-good-fun machismo sentiments that never failed to remind me how utterly superficial and unfathomably ridiculous the female race must appear to men. 🙂

what i would give for my coveted place beneath my old desk right about now, you can only imagine.

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