Posted by Dirck on 8 December, 2016
Oh, let me tell you about some fun I had on the weekend. Through my own negligence as a householder, I slipped on some ice. The main injury was not, as my initial vector would have had it, through taking the edge of a concrete stair to the parietal lobe, but resulted from my quick “thinking” to avoid such a blow; the non-slipping leg suddenly took the weight, slipped sideways on an entirely different but smaller patch of ice until it found traction… at which point everything below the knee stopped moving, while everything above the knee carried on for another three or four centimeters.
This hurt rather a lot.
The silver lining in this was twofold. I discovered that my son does not panic when a parent collapses in a howling heap, but waits for a break in the screaming to ask if he should go inside and call 911 (not this time). Also, I was presented with an unusual opportunity to amend the lyrics of a Sesame Street song to run “One of These Knees is Not Like The Other” for the amusement of my family.
The reason I mention all this is that my page output is a bit low this week. For some reason, I was having trouble focussing on Monday. Things are rather better now– I may even put aside the cane before the weekend is done!
|This Week’s Pens||Inks||How Much Novel Written|
† This is one of those stories that you either vent off by writing or go nuts from it presenting new and ever more upsetting details on the screen of imagination. I’m cracked enough already, so I’m dividing my attention until the short story is safely pinned onto paper; lunch for the novel, idle minutes in the last half-hour of the work-day and through the evenings for the this horror.