clumsiness.

So, I fell last week. Hard, right to my knees. On the sidewalk. I left a knee-shaped spot of ground-in denim there in the concrete. The baby was in his bucket, asleep until he fell three inches to the ground. At least I can't carry him any higher than that. And I normally never carry the bucket, but the boy-creature was in a phone meeting and couldn't come and fetch the sleeping baby. He did come fetch the angrily woken baby while I limped inside, though.

My hand healed quickly, at least. Hand scrapes sometimes take awhile in winter.

My knees are a little better now. The scrapes are healing. I need to patch my jeans. But damn. The bruising looks bad. And my right knee aches and hurts to bend and bounce and crawl. I do a lot of bending and bouncing and crawling. That's going to be the knee that gives me trouble in 20 years.

Then the next day, I ran into the futon arm. Wham. Lovely bruise on my left thigh.

First thing the next morning? I slipped on black ice and fell on my right hip. It's not so bad, though. It was a fluid fall. Almost graceful in my swift downward slide.

I'm covered with other bruises. I have no clue where they happened. I assume I've hit door jambs and dryers and toys and tables. It's just so hard to tell half the time. I'm conscious of not whacking the urchin's head against something and then I nearly drop him when I crack my toe against something else. *sigh*