In The Right Light

November 26, 2007

Assess the Damage

Filed under: this girl's life — jessica @ 7:13 pm

Today started out like any other day. My alarm sounded at 5:15. I hopped in the shower, got dressed (in brand-new-just-bought-this-weekend-and-I-haven’t-shopped-in-months pants and turtleneck), straightened my hair, slapped on some makeup, threw my pumps in my purse, laced up my running shoes, and headed out the door for my half mile walk to the bus stop.

As I raced out the door feeling fabulous in my new clothes, I noticed that I was a tad bit behind schedule. In order to make it to the bus stop in time I was going to need to run. No problem, that is the exact situation I prepare myself for every time I choose function over fashion and put on my Asics instead of my Nine West. And so I was off. Less then a block from where I hop on the bus, and less then one minute before it should arrive I felt myself hurtling towards the pavement in slow motion. I felt like I would have time to right my feet, which had apparently gotten miscombobulated, before it was too late. Turns out I was wrong.

Next thing I knew, I was laying on the sidewalk somewhere between Harrison St. and Colorado Blvd attempting to channel enough jedi force to make the pain in my left leg go away. I lay there for about a minute, just long enough to watch the bus come and go, before finally having the thought to roll over and assess the damage. Wouldn’t you know it, my brand new pants that I was so excited about, the same pants that I bought on clearance for $20 at TJ Maxx this weekend and put on for the first time this very morning, now had a gapping hole in the precious brown wool. Under the hole I discovered that my knee was one big bloody mess. So of course, I started crying over the death of my pants.

My knee seems to be fine now, I mean, not totally fine. It still hurts like a son of a bitch when I put any weight on it and even the thought of putting the ice pack back on makes my bones hurt. But nothing is broken or torn, and that’s what really matters. But still, as I lay incapacitated on the couch, I turned to my husband and said, “I’d rather have broken my leg then ripped that hole in my new pants.”

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Assess the Damage