I haven't written, much less blogged, anything substantial as of late. I mean to cure myself of writers block by just writing anything and everything again. My brain has probably turned to liquidy goo from its lack of exercise lately.
I love New York City. When people blab all about how there's a certain energy to it, it's because it's true. And believe me, if anybody can tell, I can. It's even gotten me a bit more energized (or that could just be me getting healthier again). But that's a story for another day.
It's a semi-gloomy rainy day in New York yesterday. As I walked to work from the PATH train to my job down Fashion Ave., I slipped on one of those gold plates on the sidewalk. If you've never walked through NYC's Fashion Ave., those gold plates are like the stars on Hollywood's Walk of Fame... except a bit more spread out.
By the way, I caught myself in time before I cracked my skull open. Good. Now that my brain's turned to mush, I might have made quite a mess.
Then I got stepped on.
No, not right after the slipping. Fortunately.
Actually, somebody stepped on my slippers, my Islanders (the best slippers ever!!! I blame my mishaps on my lack of hand-eye coordination rather than the footwear). My foot then ricocheted around to slap my opposite calf, thereby leaving some nasty muddy stains on my bare leg.As you can see, I'm quite prone to potentially embarrassing mishaps. It's a good thing I'm fairly immune to most forms of embarrassment by now.
Then later in the day, on my way home, I got stepped on again.
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