The Man is hungry, no time for a title

There are times, I assume in everyone's life, when you just can't seem to get your feet underneath you. It reminds me of a post I wrote back in January when I couldn't get my feet underneath me:

I tripped over an uneven part of the walkway. It was one of those trips where you think you can just take a couple of quick steps and recover, yanno?

Except I couldn't... but once I had already taken a couple of quick steps I was sort of committed to my plan of trying to recover the trip. So I sort of tried to jump for the recover. Except that didn't work and therefore I had to sort of run to recover. Except that didn't work so I sort of ran into the van. Hard. With my face... and neck... and chest... and more. And then I hit the ground. And then I couldn't breathe. And The Man thought maybe I had broken my neck. And then when he realized I was going to live he asked me... "What the hell was that?!!"

And we laughed.

And laughing hurt.

I think it's interesting how something that in January happened in less than one minute of time can be dragging itself out here in May over weeks.

I know if I can't get my feet underneath myself I'll fall... and probably hard. And then when it's all over I'll pick myself up and we'll laugh again. And the laughing might hurt a little bit. But we heal and life goes on.

It's not even that anything momentous has happened... I just somehow got my feet out from underneath me. Just one little trip and all of a sudden I'm heading face first for the pavement.

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