On the way home from the grocery store, we stopped at the mailboxes and I hopped out to check the mail. I told Scott to drive home, that I needed a walk (damn that pedometer strapped to my hip!). So I picked up the mail and set off home.
Because the first house on our street hasn't been built yet (don't ask me - they built the second house first), the sidewalk doesn't go all the way home. Where the sidewalk ended, I walked down the little ramp to get to the street, slipped on some mud, and then I think I tripped on my own shoe.
What happened next was something of a slow-motion blur. I know for sure that when I tripped with my right foot, I fell onto my right knee, and then my left foot slid in the slippery mud about 8 feet to the side, away from my ass.
It was sort of like this, only replace the blue sky with mud, switch out a handful of mail for the pom in her left hand, and a palmful of pebbles and mud in the right hand. Oh, and erase the enthusiastic smile. An embarrassed smirk is much more appropriate.
Scott was mightily freaked out when I got home and he saw that my jeans were soaked from the knee down in the front of my right leg and in the back of my left leg.
The injuries are minor. I have road rash on the top of my right foot and a pretty wicked goose egg on my right knee. My left hamstring will likely hurt pretty badly in the morning, but I made Scott go out and walk with me when football was over, hoping a little stretch would relax the muscle and convince it to not freak out. I'm also a little concerned about my left ankle, but I don't think it really hurts that much more than normal.
I'll take a bruised knee any day over last month's sunburn. But allow me just a moment to whiiiine about it.