While I waited for the house to fill up again, I did a five-mile run, interrupted by about twenty minutes of rolling around the ground moaning. I tried a bit of parkour, and it went as terrible as you can expect.
I have emptied the house of band-aids to cover the bleeding scrape-wounds on my hands and legs. I even employed a bandage to cover a cut on my ankle. So, when Mark comes home, he might see a cripple in the house bemoaning my lack of balance and coördination.
What I did was to try to skid down a railing on my behind, but the railing didn’t have the necessary lack of friction and it tipped me head-first in a stairway. Not my most shining moment.
The funny thing is, as always in these situation, that you get up and look around to see if anyone saw the fall. Only when risk of humiliation have passed does the pain cripple you to a whimpering noodle.
While yesterday was marked by a curious coincidence where all my friends were too busy to come and rescue me from teenage-levels of boredom, today was a happier time since several of them came over to the house unbidden. First Stephen, and then Ben. Ben brought along Abbie too.
For a bit there, we had a war of consoles, and things were all right. Of course, after my magnificent triumph on the console my ego had to go and cause my sporty humiliation on the run.
I have to make dinner so someone doesn’t have to complain that there’s no food when he comes home. I decided to make a macaroni pudding in the oven, and serve the last of a Cretan bottle of wine we opened the other day.
I even made a feta cheese and black olive salad we can eat to the main dish. I’ve been quite productive for a cripple, haven’t I?