I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up!

I feel like such a middle-aged, past-her-prime, loser clutz. On my way back up from the basement where I'd gone to grab a pair of socks, I managed to trip on a step and crash down hard onto my left shin and right knee. Later I discovered from the throbbing that I'd also whacked my right shin and apparently tried to brace myself with my left arm. The pain was so instense when I fell that I almost passed out and had to lie pathetically on the stairs for a couple of minutes, hyperventilating. Ridiculous. You never hear of lithe young 20-somethings tripping over their own feet and falling up the stairs. Certainly not being crippled by it to the point of passing out! Pre-teens, yes, although minus the passing out. I remember my younger sister when she was 12-13 years old tripping over herself every time she went up stairs.

SCENE: Dianne sits in the family room reading a book. Sandy heads upstairs.

SANDY: (CRASH!)

DIANNE: Are you o.k.?

SANDY: (sigh) Yes.

DIANNE: (Goes back to reading.)

SANDY: (Continues up the stairs.)

Her poor bewildered body had lost track of its parts in all the hormone confusion. But even in that awkward, clutzy time, you're able to get up and carry on without lasting effect. I, however,
had to call in sick to work and spend the rest of the day sitting in a rocking chair with ice packs on my legs. And the worst of it was that the manager on duty I had to tell about it is a lithe young 20-something who I'm sure never falls up the stairs and frequently refers to my aesthetic tastes as "retro" (totally unaware in her youthful innocence how OLD that makes me feel).

I have crashed into the heartland of Middle-Aged. Just the words "middle-aged" make me feel fat. The older obsolete model that gets stuck on a shelf until some kid finds it and squeals, "How retro!" At least I didn't break anything—I'm not quite old enough to join the Broken Hip Brigade yet. But I'm definitely part of the Quaint Generation, amusingly old-fashioned and somewhat irrelevant. A retro curio on the shelf, cute but covered in dust. Which brings to mind an Eels song that, as always with Eels songs, makes me feel better about reality.