I fell the other day.  Stepping off the back porch steps, I hit that uneven bit of sidewalk again, the same place where I sprained both ankles last summer.  Down I went, this time my ankles were spared, but not my right butt cheek, my hand, and shoulder.  I landed on my butt, broke a vein in the palm of my hand (it’s quite a lovely shade of purple now), and I jounced my shoulder.

     I’m certain I was quite a sight for my neighbors as I landed splat on my backside.  I was taking Gavin out at the time.  Delighted to have me on his level, he raced over, began to lick my face, and tried to crawl into my lap.  I went into a fit of the giggles.  Gavin took that as a good sign and he scoured my face with more enthusiasm.  By then I was so weak from the giggles I couldn’t push him off me so we ended up rolling around on the grass. 

     The neighbors are probably convinced that I’m certifiable.