Dust Yourself Off

Holy moley, today was the fall of a lifetime. While moving boxes, storage containers, CD holders, and several other pieces of my current apartment to the car, the wipeout of the century occurred. Today's weather has been the traditional February San Francisco downpour. Picture a continuous pitter patter of droplets while streams fit to sail paper ships on developed as the afternoon went onward. Taking several trips in and out to the car, the steep cement steps in front of the apartment became increasingly more slippery. Making a mental note, thoughts of falling entered my head. Several precautionary measures were taken and I was down to the last load prior to driving off to the palace of cohabitation. Carrying a very old lawn chair and the file cabinet which contains every bit of financial historical data as well as owners manuals from televisions or phones which probably don't own any longer, I tumbled down 4 steps in slick fashion. Landing on my elbow and falling flat on my right butt cheek and hip, stars appeared and the swelling instantaneous. Finally realizing what happened, I lay there mid-staircase stating aloud "Son-of-a-bitch that hurt!" realizing no one was there to witness a bit of it. (Son-of-a-bitch is my dad's favorite word, he will tell you that himself and has no bones about it. And who says the apple doesn't fall far from the tree!) File case in hand as well as the lawn chair in the other, somehow I managed to keep them in tact and prevent breakage/spillage. Got up, dusted myself off, and hauled the load over to the new abode.

Now here I sit with a sore ass and elbow wonder when in the heaven's name I will learn to ask for help. There's no reason to do this all myself. But then again, I wouldn't be a very good Capricorn then would I?!?!