You just gotta love getting old. As they say often, “It beats the alternative.” (I agree on that.)
I was walking around the house in my stocking feet this afternoon as I always do–tile floor throughout–getting ready for my nap and feeling jet-lagged-out-of-it, practically out on my feet. I was way past ready for my nap but had to use the facilities. I made the right turn from the hallway into the john, stepped on the edge of a small rug, and went down like the proverbial ton of bricks putting out my right hand to stop myself. On the way down I thought, “Don’t break your right wrist; you fly to Quito on Sunday.” The fall was nowhere near as bad as the one I took in the motel bathroom in Fort Myers a few years ago but as I got up, I saw that I had somehow gouged my left arm just above the wrist; it looked as if I had taken one of those rounded wood chisels to it with a vengeance. I cleaned it up nicely, bandaged it–I have lots of supplies left over from my second surgery, and–though it took me a while to fall asleep after a surge of adrenalin, took a short nap. I am now none the worse for wear.
I chuckled when I thought of how careful I was up on that mountain just a few days ago, taking great care with every step, aware that I might slip and fall and seriously injure myself or destroy my gear. Then take a turn into the bathroom and go down hard (but not for the count!) You gotta love getting old.
|[Not a valid template]|
Abstract. See below.
What is It?
What is it? What focal length was used to create the image? Answer in two days. 🙂