Due for a weekend

So far . . . it has been a long, long morning.

It all began when I was walking though the courthouse while trying to disguise my limp.

The reason for the limp: on Wednesday, I took an unpleasant spill down the stairs at my office. My left ankle got banged up and is a bit tender and swollen. I will say this with great pride, though, I did not cry (even if I may have wanted to a little bit). That's right, this kid is a toughie.

Oddly enough, my ankle feels much more comfortable pointed than flexed, so high heels continue to be the most appropriate footwear -- which is good, because I have a fantastic new pair of shoes -- strappy numbers with an itty bitty skinny heals. Love 'em!

Fortunately, I managed to keep my hobbling to a minimum as I jogged though the courthouse.(YAY!) Then, as I was hustling down the courthouse's marble staircase, my dainty little shoe caught on the step. (BOO!)

Falling down the stairs Wednesday sucked. Falling down the stairs this morning S-U-C-K-E-D! I would rate the overall painfulness of both falls somewhat equally. However, in the embarrassment category, today's fall blows Wednesday's clear out of the water. Here's how it went down:

• I was talking with a client while going down the stairs.
• My heel caught, and I went down like a sac o' potatoes.
• I slid down four or five steps while the file I was holding went flying into the air -- papers scattering in every direction.
• Two very nice gentlemen ran to collect my papers.
• The commotion apparently attracted the attention of the security guards who darted up the stairs with hands on their firearms to see what the hell was going on.
• Eventually, I brushed myself off, told everyone that I was OK, and tried to scrape together some degree of decorum as I passed the people on the ground floor who were trying to disguise their giggles. (bastards)

After I got back to my car, I took inventory of any potential injuries. Sure enough, my left ankle had begun swelling to match my right ankle. This was the first time I noticed that my elbow, calf and finger were bleeding. I sighed and started to pull out of my parking space.

That's then the parking attendant flagged me down. Perfect! Why not add parking-ticket-insult to injury?

Fortunately, Parking Attendant Dennis did not want to issue me a ticket (YAY!). Parking Attendant Dennis just felt like chatting (BOO!).

Here's an overview of the topic that Dennis and I discussed: (Well, he discussed, I uncomfortably smiled and nodded)

• The weather;
• Dennis' childhood home in Boston;
• His father's military service record ;
• Dennis's Naval experience;
• Somebody's cremation and tastefully tall urn;
• Submarines and Rolls Royce limousines;
• Dennis' trip to the North Pole and his coming to terms with the realization that Santa Clause was nowhere to be found (I really, really wish I was kidding).

After a good FOURTEEN MINUTES, Dennis decided that his ramblings had reached a satisfactory conclusion, and allowed me to leave the parking lot.

While I may not always learn from my mistakes (like how not to go down stairs), there are some lessons that do stick with me. For instance, I did not offer to buy Parking Attendant Dennis a giant sandwich.

Thank you for listening to my Dennisesque rambling tale of woe. I feel better now

(Dear God, I am due for a weekend)