It's Called a Derailleur Because it's Derailed

Ok, so the title of this post really has nothing to do with bikes - except the fact that I won't be riding one for a little bit.

This morning I went out the door in my CFMP's and dress from last night because I didn't sleep in my own bed. (Details withheld to protect the innocent.) I immediately took Kona out for a walk - but, because it was almost 10 a.m., my neighbors and neighbors' kids and dogs were also, all, out for a walk. My backyard slopes down, so as I tried to explain what I was doing to my aunt and put down my phone, Kona (even on a PINCH COLLAR) took control of the lead and literally dragged me down the hill. I ended up dirty, bloody and on my knees. Thank God my dress stayed put and I didn't show anyone anything - but I wrenched my right ankle/foot and my right knee hit the edge of the concrete so hard that it left a half-inch long series of crater-like gouges in my skin.

I had a date to go dancing tonight . . . and I set it this morning, thinking the injuries were no big deal. Well, now I'm sitting here with my ankle wrapped and a waterproof bandage on my knee, wondering if I need to hit the nearest walk0in clinic when they open tomorrow.

Good fucking times.

I won't be working out for a little bit. I'm derailed . . . AGAIN. The bandaid keeps coming off my damn knee. I'm supposed to be off my feet but I have a lot of cleaning to do - and I just dinged tow of my nice fresh French manicured nails.

Other than that I feel nice and positive.