Wooooah, shit.

Gravity. It's just so certain, so consistent, so powerful.

The building I work in is old and poorly designed. It has steep concrete stairs at the corner entrance. They're a little tough to negotiate on a good day, and they're especially tricky on wet days like today.

I slogged my way through the city streets and got to those doors soggy and cold. I pulled on the heavy metal door, but some pressure force on the other side sucked the door back. I was already pulling the door with my strength, as it is, and before I knew it, I was flying backward. I landed three steps down on my left hip, kept going, and crashed onto my right shoulder, finally stopping flat on my back on the sidewalk.

I did not hit my head. My hip made a noise when I hit the sidewalk, but I can walk, so I don't think I damaged anything. As the day went on, I've felt worse and worse, though. I am in pain from my shoulder to my calf. All of my pelvic-related abdominal pain managed to return by noon.

At some point this afternoon, it occurred to me to file an accident form. I went to the director's assistant and said, "Jenn, I need a boo-boo report." She smiled sympathetically and said, "Oooo. I just happen to have those in this file. Did you fall down?" I nodded and she said, "Seems like there's a lot of that going around, lately. Do you need a band-aid?"

Have I ever mentioned that I work in an unsafe building? Ah, the nonprofit life.

I fear the sight of the bruise that is yet to come.

This is the second fall down a flight of stairs I've had in under three months. Frank blames lithium. I blame gravity.