You must have been wondering what happened to me. Don’t I post every Sunday and Wednesday? Or Monday and Thursday? Or Tuesday and Friday?
Maybe I’ve been on vacation, or at some convention in Rio for obscure bloggers. Or maybe I was swallowed up by banks of Chinese computers that have decided to stop hacking into American retail outlet databases and have moved onto eating humans whole.
Or maybe I was in a bicycling accident.
Don’t worry, I’m OK. Despite the fact that you didn’t call. Check to make sure I’m OK. Still alive. Able to sit up and take nourishment.
Did I get hurt? Yes I did. But mostly, it was emotional pain. You might as well know: my life has been foreshortened by several (emotional) years. Here’s how it happened:
My dark and leaf-strewn bike route home, normally entirely safe, had been booby-trapped by natural forces. Arriving at the crest of a hill (at Perkins and Chestnut streets in Jamaica Plain, if you must know), I bore left (I want to say “beared left” but my computer and several other sources claim that’s incorrect) along the bike path and came upon a pair of joggers, running two-abreast (gosh it makes me blush to say that!). I moved the right to give them a bit of room, and they moved to the left for me. Unfortunately, it wasn’t far enough. As we crossed paths, my wheels slid off the edge of the leaf-covered bike path, which had narrowed where a hydrant was installed, sabotaging me. In an instant, I was on the ground, groping stupidly for my senses.
The joggers stopped to help. There wasn’t much for them to do but note that I had driven my bike into an unseeable hole.
This is all-too reminiscent of the injury my wife sustained as she rode off a bike path and fell to the ground heading up to the Mass Horticultural Society headquarters in Wellesley, MA fracturing a finger in the process and causing her ultimately to have her rings resized.
(But what, you wonder, was the extent of her emotional toll?)