Yesterday was not a good day, overall. I'm sure, in retrospect, it wasn't worse than any other day I've had in my life, but it's not one I want to linger over.
There's the whole "end of semester" craziness, of course. Students who panic now when they should have panicked a great deal earlier--they are driving me nuts. How many times can I say, "Don't talk to me about grades during dead week," or "I won't read late work" before they listen? So, all this late work that I won't grade piles up, and they wait until now to mention it. Too late! I have enough to do right now; I don't have the time or the inclination to grade work that should have been graded a month ago.
So, yesterday morning, I went to the grocery store to get what I needed so I could hibernate this weekend, stay in and grade papers and catch up on things I need to do. I'm the "I'll take my groceries out myself"-type of woman; it's not that I don't want to tip the bag person, or anything. I just know he/she won't be carrying my groceries in my house for me.
As I'm signing my name to the receipt, the sacker starts putting my paltry haul into bags for me. I only had two light bags and a big bag of cat food, so I knew I could carry those out. When he asked me if he could take my purchases out for me, I said, "That's okay. I can do it." I came around the end of the check-out stand, picked up my bags, and proceeded to trip over the two boxes the guy had dropped at the end of the stand.
I didn't see the boxes; I didn't know he had dropped them there because I was not watching him while I was signing my name. He did not say, "Watch out for those boxes."
I went sprawling on the hard tile floor.
I guess we react to something like this the same way we react to a car accident--slow motion flashes of our lives up to that moment. I fell on my left side--my butt, my elbow and hand, and my left knee hit the ground in succession. I sat there for a few seconds; everyone and everything in the store stopped. I was soon surrounded by most of the employees, all of whom left whatever they were doing to make sure I was okay.
Well, I was in some pain, but I was more embarrassed than anything. "Are you okay?" I must have been asked that twenty times. No, I'm not "okay," but nothing is sprained or broken, except my ego! I limped to my car with the sacker guy carrying my bags. When I tried to tip him, he said, "No, ma'am. You don't owe me a thing!"
When I tried to get out of bed this morning, I swear I could hear my body creak. I was stiff and the bruise on my knee is purple. My left arm hurts, and I can't type for long before my pinkie and ring fingers go numb. Maybe I should call the store and ask the manager to file an incident report in case I need to see a doctor. But, I'm not the suing type, so I'll just take some more ibuprofen.
Okay, so that took care of the morning. I limped through the rest of the afternoon. When I finished grading, reading, etc., all the papers that my students sent me on Thursday and Friday, I sat on the sofa knitting.
Golum (you know him!) came scampering through the living room around nine or ten last evening, obviously chasing something. I was hoping it was a lizard or grasshopper, but then I saw a brown field mouse hop away from him. He brought a mouse in the house. I don't know if any of the cats have caught it yet, but I hope the mouse had the good sense to run out as fast as it could. I hate mice and rats; they are probably the only animals I don't have sympathy for. I don't mind if they stay outside, but I don't want them in my house. And I really don't need the cats bringing them inside.
I haven't seen the mouse since last night, and I don't want to. My only consolation is that I know the cats will get it if it shows itself anywhere inside. Darn cats.