Falling.

I must be a good fall-er. Have you ever fallen down a flight of stairs, head first? I guess I stayed loose as I tumbled. My apartment is the upper of a two-family. A staircase immediately behind my front door, carpeted. Prior to yesterday I complained about the carpet. After I assessed my minor injuries I was pretty damn happy I didn’t land on bare steps. I have some wicked bruises and I’m sore. I’ll be ok. My shoulders are sore and my right hip is very tender. Scared the shit out of me. I’m still spooked. I’ll be more careful, promise.

I reached for something inconsequential. From the second or third step my foot wasn’t on the step right and I hopped down, that’s when I lost my balance. Landed on my hip, hard. Really hard. Tried to fight the slide but I didn’t want to stiffen up too much. Down on my right side like Superman. Arm folded under my side, forehead into the front door. Alive but holy shit. Nothing broken, thankful. Considering I was in my drawers, especially thankful. Somehow lost a bit of hair I spied later in the door jamb. Hair is acceptable collateral to a broken bone I think.

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