I had a dream. Actually, it was more of a goal, and a lofty goal at that.
It was a goal to do a marathon cleaning session before the kids & grandkids showed up to celebrate the Christmas holiday with us. And I was a third of the way there with the bathroom completely succumbed to my supreme cleaning abilities.
And then Thursday happened.
I was at work, minding my own business, heading up to the front of the college to deliver some paperwork and I noticed a familiar face enter the building. Being the ever-so-kind person that I am, I hollered “Hello Bill ” as he made his way through the doors, And as I rounded a corner I was immediately attacked.
The villain was no more than 12 inches tall, but its intent was deadly as it reached an arm out into my path. Unaware of the vicious plans of this unknown enemy, I was quickly taken down.
In one split second I went tumbling* over my enemy and with outstretched hands prepared to meet the hard tile floor that awaited me.
For a moment I layed motionless as I tried to determine if I had come through the attack unscathed. As voices spoke to me and strong arms reached down to me offering assistance, I realized that I was in fact, not OK. There was a terrible pain in my left knee and my right hand had the searing sensation of a 100 fires in it.
Trying to bring my brain to a complete halt after the free-fall my attacker had launched me on, I allowed myself to be seated into a chair as a crowd of colleagues gathered around me.
OK, let’s just cut to the chase here: I tripped over a box that someone had left outside their door and took a digger. (The prologue is completely true albeit slightly glamorous for effect.)
Needless to say I endured 3 hours in the emergency room and came away with the diagnosis that I f’d up my knee pretty good and sprained a ligament in my hand.
As of the time of this post I feel like I have been hit by a Mack Truck. OK, maybe not a Mack Truck, possibly a Pinto Wagon. The bruises are starting to form and every muscle in my upper body feels like they have been used as a punching bag.
This is how my co-workers let me know that they care about me and hope I get better soon.
I wouldn’t expect anything different.
*Actually, I was told later that it was probably the most graceful fall that anyone had ever seen. I’m surprised it hasn’t been posted on YouTube yet.
10 Responses to “Just Call Me Grace”
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Ya know, and the girls wonder where they get their clumsiness… 🙂 I tell them from you hehehe…
Sandy! I’m so sorry you were viciously attacked – and just before the holidays! I hope you’re feeling better very soon. And I hate to admit it, but I did chuckle a little when I saw the tape outline. Your coworkers are hilarious. Happy holidays! -jeanne
Feeling better Jeanne thanks to the thoughts from wonderful people like you! I also chuckled when I saw what my co-workers did… they are a great bunch of people.
‘Tis true 😉
This is obviously a Larson trait. I trip over cracks in the sidewalk. My daughter runs into walls. My granddaughter trips over her own two feet. One of my old bosses swore that one year he was going to get me elbow pads and shin guards. We all sympathize with you Sandy.
Thanks Kelly, glad to know I’m not alone!
It is most DEFINITELY a Larson trait, Kelly! Mom, all of us girls (AND Brayden!) are clumsy. I can’t even remember (like I said before) how many times you told me that you should have named me “Grace!” X-)
And I still say you should be covered in bubble wrap 😉
Like before my wedding, right?! lol
True story, btw… lol