Somedays, I just want to go back to bed.

yesterday i had a gig, and like many weeknight gigs, i wouldn’t make it home between work and gig time. i really, really hate that. because home is where i reset & recharge, and i have a psychic need to be there every day when possible. also, gigs require preparations of the vain sort, and i just can’t possibly bring or remember to bring all the implements of beauty that i require. (many would be surprised at how much effort i put in to looking this disheveled.)

but i suck it up and do it, so yesterday i was walking in to work in my shiny new boots (yay!), carrying an assortment of three shoulder bags and backpacks, along with a guitar, when i tripped and fell.

as falls go, it was pretty conservative. i know exactly what happened -- there is a portion of sidewalk on the way in that has a little channel for drainage, and i stepped there, which is bad enough in sneakers but in high-heel boots was ridiculous, and my left foot went oooooops! and my right knee went down onto the pavement. but i didn’t drop my bags, didn’t fall on my face, and didn’t sprain anything, so i got up and kept walking like it was nothing. of course, if i had sprained something, i still would’ve just kept walking, crying inside with every step, until i made it into the office. i should mention i was wearing a skirt, so there is no fabric between my skin and the pavement, but thankfully, there is no pants knee to tear, as well.

i KNOW people saw it -- i was right there on the corner of the street -- and i was mortified. i didn’t look around, just kept looking straight, walking briskly as possible toward the office, waiting for that sweet haven where i could take off my “pssh, how DARE that sidewalk trip me!” face and put on my “WAAAAAAAAAAH” face. about thirty seconds after the fall a coworker calls my name from behind me. shit. not only di about 3 million people see me fall (that may be an exaggeration), one of them was a coworker! he didn’t say anything about it, though. he asked about my guitar. this was either incredibly wise on his part, or incredibly lucky on mine -- i can pretend that he didn’t see anything, or that he only saw me kneel and thought i was fixing my shoe or adjusting my bags.

i tried to keep a normal tone and expression for the walk in, where i took the elevator up (which i never do) because of the bags and the pain in my legs. as i stand on the elevator, i look at my knee, and realize there is a sizable chunk of -- skin? pavement? -- hanging off it, as well as some very dark red blood threatening to drip onto my new boots. i pull a little at the sticking-out part, find it is attached to me and i now have nicely bloodied fingers, and decide to leave it until i can put my stuff down. i make it into the office, act like nothing’s wrong, put my things by my desk, and head off to the bathroom to mop up my disgusting wound.

i cry a little in the bathroom, because that’s what i do, and gingerly blot away the blood. i’m pretty sure there are some first aid-type items around the office, likely in the kitchen, but i’m not positive what and where they are. the blood isn’t gushing after a little pressure, so i return to my desk, where i hold a paper towel on my knee, awkwardly, as a little blood returns to the surface. at this point i have decided i don’t like that extra bit of skin, so i cut it off with some dull scissors that reside in my desk drawer, then clean the scissors off.

the wound is kinda gross, and i can’t take the paper towel off for fear of extra bloodiness, so i head to the kitchen for a band-aid. i actually almost went in the kitchen on my way to the bathroom, but i thought i heard someone in there so i just avoided it. this time i have an excuse BESIDES the band-aid, i plan on getting a cup of water if someone’s there. luckily, the room is empty, and i find the bandages where they belong, grab one, and slap it on.

finally, things can start returning to normal. no one has to know when or how i scraped my knee, it’s just an innocent band-aid... it’s a shame i had to wear it to the show. band-aids are a bit lighter than my skin tone and i felt it was rather conspicuous, but the wound itself was worse (i looked, it really wasn’t anything i thought polite to display). i did think of putting make-up on it, to cover the discolouration, but it hadn’t healed enough where that was a possibility.

it’s still kinda icky today, but at least (mostly) the embarrassment is gone. i did try to do some wii-fitting, but belatedly realized i couldn’t do anything requiring me to kneel. that was kind of hurty. and i don’t have band-aids at home, apparently, so i have to get some. i think i’ll go with the Hello Kitty ones.