So, tonight we established that I am the least boring person on some of my friends contact lists. While they are safely tucking their children into bed at night or working in a routine job…I am out getting into trouble.
It’s not the fun, anticipated ‘Yeah let’s run amok’ kind of trouble, that I would dearly like it to be however. (Seriously, It’s not like I try to get into these situations). We also did establish, that it was not simply a case of over-reaction to small drama, and blowing it out of proportion either. The kind of trouble I end up in is usually legitimately serious, random and seriously fucked up.
Allow me to give you a few recent examples, just to clarify exactly what I am referring to here…
*I get employed on Xmas Eve for an 8wk work contract which I needed… then the contracting company goes bust.
*8 weeks ago I break up a dog fight…and get both arms torn open with two fractures and muscle damage.
*4 weeks ago I get a cough… which naturally turns out to be pneumonia serious enough to be hospitalised for.
*I’m not even touching on my personal/romantic life here, but you wouldn’t understand or believe half of it, and let’s just say it’s been a long few weeks.
*And then there’s tonight?!!?………….
I was walking home (just keeping totally to myself) on a fairly badly lit stretch of road between my house and the shopping centre nearby. Nobody else was around on a cool, quiet night. Just me, walking along absorbed in my thoughts. I just had time to spare and a few last minute things to pick up, and purposely left it until the stupid pre-Easter rush was over. Headlights started coming toward me and I noted they were moving a bit faster than I was comfortable with. That thought there prooooo-bably just saved me some more hospital time. ‘A bit faster’.
As the car skidded sideways, crunched onto the curb edge, sending concrete chips flying, and jumped onto the grass fronting the footpath I jumped backward. The back end of the car slid around and skimmed across my leg, catching on my jeans and dragging me around with the car, before finally the denim gave and tore, letting me fall to the ground clear of the wheels and bumper. The driver hit the gas, made it back onto the bitumen, and sped off up the road. At the next corner I heard wheels squealing again and then they were gone. I didn’t see the plates, although it was pointed out that I was close enough, I probably could have read them like braille.
So, as I collected my gear and brushed myself off, I stood contemplating what just happened, and whether I was lucky to be still able to stand up, or unlucky that it happened at all? I checked bones and they all seemed to be intact, so I started walking home again, noting the speed my heart was now moving at. Every car along the stretch made me flinch a little, and the key in the door was a welcome click. Yes puppies, Mum has made it home safe from the fucked up concrete jungle once again. Just.
Just one small scrape on my cheek where a piece of concrete hit, just below my right eye was the only evidence anything happened at all, and I have a serious backache from landing on the ground, but that will fade. I can still walk…
I asked three people-Lucky or unlucky? The first said “I don’t believe in luck, it was meant to be, as it happened.”
The second said “What’s with you? Be careful, you know it comes in threes!” and the third said “I don’t care but I don’t want you leaving the house, using sharp implements or cooking with a stove”