Just remain quiet until later
Man can’t fly worth beans. I’m not talking about getting into one of those new-fangled flying machines here. Rather, about how we can get all two feet 6o.96 cm (two feet) off the ground, but then our good friend gravity kicks back in. Free fall, maybe; free landing, rarely.
Last evening, in a calamitous series of circumstances, I found myself in front of a speeding canine at exactly the wrong moment. In a closed space, barefoot, with my hands otherwise occupied, dog and man attempted to occupy the same space at the same time. Ask Einstein: it doesn’t work very well. I hopped, skipped, jumped and flew. See the above technical reference. And I made a three-point landing worthy of a circus performer. Or was it four? Let me count my wounds.
On one side, there’s a skid knee, a skid wrist and a bright blue-yellow shoulder. On the other, a really sore foot from stepping on a cheap metal fan stand. So sore that others wanted to go for a nighttime tour of the local hospital; I declined… some accidents are best not tested for plausibility in the public eye. See the above reference to flight.
The night was rather long, as I chose the couch for what little sleep might come. Today, long also. As we head toward the end of another long one, I remain convinced that a trip to ‘Emerg would have been overkill. The swelling and tenderness went away. The trauma to my ego, less. You see, when I was fifteen this would have been just one more unfortunate moment. Now that I’m older and wiser, it simply hurts to learn that my body doesn’t like hurting. I don’t want to fall down anymore. And the skid marks and bruises will probably take longer than I like to fade away. No changing to shorts and tee for work this week. I’d then have to explain about mankind and flight, and I don’t feel up to it.
As for the dog; well, there was nobody outside to bark at anyhow. All that racing for nothing at all. She did get some exercise.
