After the fall

Last day of the Celtic year, While moving boxes of medieval Celtic books to the garage,  rather than do a header, I took a spectacular backflip and skidded down the front steps, trying to protect my knee. I sort of rode it out on my back and tailbone, surfing like a skateboard champ. I have a bloody nick on the front of my tibia and a foot long bruise, clearly I also landed on my shinbone as well. Then I flipped over like a fish to give the other side of my body equal exposure. 

And then, later in the day, I got  clobbered by a demented box of art supplies stashed on the highest shelf of the closet. I took the brunt of it on my left arm, not once, but twice. The second time, a crate of Xmas stuff leapt off the shelf and smashed my right arm. Since I was officially bleeding from long scrapes on both arms, I just gave up. I think those boxes were going for the jugular and carotid. Or maybe my head. I said, sheesh! Third time’s a charm. 

Don’t disturb the closet ghosts on Samhain. Needless to say, I didn’t get much moving done. Some days are like that. There will be hell to pay tomorrow. I may have landed on my back but now I also have a big bruise on the front of my shin. I must’ve flipped like a cat, mid-air. All those years on horse, and donkeyback have taught me how to fall. No tailbones were involved, but it hurts to slouch in the lumbar zone. And sitting in a chair or a car seat is uncomfortable. My arms are sumo buff and bruised. When I go down for the count, I do it with verve and style. But I hurt in some very odd places.