Bruised

Ow. I am at my most battered in a long time. I generally live a fairly delicate life; no contact sports, no heavy lifting...you get the picture. Tonight, I type before you a wounded woman. Not as a result of impact sports; no, although the last few days have also been my most athletic in a long time, with the exception of a broken nail (which no, I do not include in my inventory of injuries), I emerged from them unscathed. No, these bruises have been inflicted by The Cafe.

Yeah, you heard me. A Cafe/family breakfast place has beaten me into submission. This is probably where some of you are starting to think I'm just using "beaten" as a metaphor for "exhausted", but I'm serious. I have bruises, people!

So how did I get them? Mopping. Not by me, mind you - peripheral character mopping. Basically, the boys in the back (ie the kitchen crew) were mopping the place. When the floors of the cafe are wet, they get very very slippery. We're talking slip'n'side here. And I bailed. Full on, landed horizontal on my left-side, bailed. On my iPod mini. Which, thank god, lives up to its claimed sturdiness. But my body? Does not. I am bruised to the bejeesus. And my ankle really hurts.

Ow.

Stay tuned for the 250th NeverReason post! That's right, 250! Right after the break.