Unlucky morning

Today I woke up pleased and amused that it was Friday the 13th. Adam was born on a Friday the 13th. In fact, he turned 13 on a Friday the 13th, so we tend to be fond of the day. (I know. Kind of stupid. But what's life without such silly little pleasures?)

The day is unseasonably warm and bright. I was feeling motivated to get back to my intensive writing schedule.

And then, on my way to my office, I managed to walk over the only patch of black ice in the parking lot.

"Wipe out" is an understatement for what happened next. I had been carrying a stuffed satchel on one shoulder and my laptop computer on the other. In my arms, I had balanced many accordian files and a tower of library books. The computer went flying and landed with a sickening "crack," despite its padded case. The satchel puked its contents (and my lunch) all over the pavement.

The library books scattered like so many dead birds. At least they and the fat accordian files prevented my belly from hitting the ground. I landed, frog-style, on one hand and both knees. I watched the soup I'd packed for lunch go trickling by. And I thought, "Oh, good. At least I didn't hurt the baby."

Then I felt the stabbing pain in my knee and thigh bones and started to cry.

And this is how my colleague found me. Sobbing face down among my books in the parking lot. It was not my most dignified professional moment. Luckily, this colleague is a friend. She helped me limp into work, insisting on carrying most of my stuff. A few minutes later, I called Adam, who said sweet, comforting things.

The casing of my computer is bent and cracked. I am about to initiate a major back-up before taking it in for a diagnostic and repair.

I have one dark purple knee and one bloody red. But, hey, it really could be a whole lot worse.