I came barreling through my front door with the wind whipping behind me and slammed it shut. Ah, sweet relief. No more snow. Without turning a light on, because it wasn’t necessary, I blindly sat down in the same chair I do every time I come home to take my wet shoes off.
Except it wasn’t there.
As I plummeted backwards to the earth I thought to myself, “Oh yeah I moved the fuckin thing to—” and thunk. I crashed to earth tailbone-first into the little crook where the bottom of the wall meets the floor.
At first I thought my tailbone was broken. Of all the most painful bones to break too. I sat there numb for several seconds before the pain actually started. Then I got up with all the grace of the Tin Man with arthritis and tried to survey the damage. As the pinch of pain in my backside grew ever tighter by the second I was not exactly optimistic. Visions of an ambulance ride with my ass in a sling went dancing through my mind. The orderlies would be shoving aside stabbing victims and OD’d dudes to get me an ass crack transplant, stat.
After gingerly walking around for ten minutes, it turned out it wasn’t so bad though. Nothing in the northern region of my anal split (official medical jargon) was broken, just horribly, and deeply, bruised to the bone. And let me tell you about the infinite pleasures of having a piece of bruised fruit where my tailbone is supposed to be. It fuckin hurts to cough for chrissake. But either way I’m just about healed up now so I suppose there’s no half-assed way to have learned this valuable lesson:
Next time I’ll turn the fuckin light on first.