Yes…It is as bad as it sounds.

Sometimes I think if it weren’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have much luck at all. No, really.

You know, I have gone YEARS without falling down. I mean, prior to the incident of two weeks ago, I hadn’t really taken a good tumble since 1989.

What the hell? Twice in just over two weeks?  I am just now over the situation with the banged up left knee, and here we go again!

They all have my name on them. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?

I was leaving my friend’s house in Raleigh last night.  I was holding a box, had successfully navigated the stairs. In the dark, even, without so much as a falter.  And then it hit me.  Or rather, HE hit me.  George.  About a hundred lovable pounds of Labrador mix.  Pretty dog.  Really sweet.  Had been loving all over me and showing off and we were becoming really good friends.  Beth opened the front door, and boom!  Out he shot. She said he’d come right back.  He did.  But I was carrying a box, and I didn’t see him coming.  Didn’t even HEAR him coming.  The next thing I know, I’m falling. Again.  In slow motion. “Oh, shit, not again…My KNEE!” is what was going through my mind just before I came down with a crash on my RIGHT knee.  Knocked the damned wind out of myself, too.

Tricia, who was with me (and, consequently, didn’t have to kill that spider, because apparently I did the job right Friday morning), came to help me up.  Poor Beth. She felt terrible.  I asked if George had gone back into the house. Nope. He was still on the lam. I felt horrible, because I was worried that he thought I tried to hurt HIM. He came home before we left. I really didn’t feel like this incident was nearly as bad as the one in the parking lot a couple weeks ago.  (Bwahah…what do I know?)

I declined ice, just wanting to get in the car and head home, where I knew there would be wine waiting for me, so I drove us back down Six Forks toward the Belt Line, and at a red light I reached down to see if the mud on my leggings had dried enough to brush off, I felt it was still wet. Pulled my hand back up and it was RED.  Great. So now I’m bleeding, in a legging, and I am fairly sure it’s going to hurt when I get home and try to peel it off, so I gingerly lift the fabric off my knee every little bit on the way home.  We stopped in Wilson, so Tricia could pick her car up from where she’d left it at work, and when I got out of the car, things were fine.  It was getting back into the car that was a challenge.  Knee did not want to bend. WTH?

Sooo, I made it home, hobbled up the steps, and Johnny just grabs the ice pack, shakes his head and helps me get my knee cleaned up.

I was fairly tired by this point and figured bed would be the safest place for me.  There I went, thinking again.  I rolled over in the middle of the night, and then, *WHAM*!!!!!  Johnny’s apparently moved his knee, and it bangs MY knee, and I’m then peeling myself off the ceiling.  This was at about 3:00.  I haven’t really been back to sleep.

So I am kind of wondering if they don’t make stylish clothing out of bubble wrap.

Or maybe I should just wear my knee pads from when I used to do inline skating. They’re hard.

Or…*sigh* dammit.