I woke up early and optimistic. I wanted to go to a museum full of Claude Monet's and spend the afternoon marveling in all that is impressionistic. I woke up, got dolled up (I mean when you have a date with Mr. Monet, you have to look your best) and set off. On the walk there I took a terrible fall. Skinned knees, hands, the whole sha-bang. It was a pretty terrible sight. To those in the park that witnessed it, hats off to not coming help me, as I sat in the dirt in agony. In their defense, I don't know that if I was picnicking in the park on a lovely afternoon I would have been the kind Samaritan running to help either. I pulled myself together, washed my hands off in a water fountain and limped to a bench. Bawling the entire time. I think I messed my left ankle up wonderfully. My first instinct in that moment, call my mom on the other side of the world for help. Not that she could do anything, and it didn't help me at all to have her woken up in worry. I grimaced my entire journey home, and wore sunglasses, to hid my running make-up. I think I will be returning to the states earlier than Sunday now. There is no point in me staying here, when I can barely walk, meaning I won't leave this house. Now I have to race the clock and ready myself to leave. Whoever finds the remainder of the stuff that I won't be able to fit in my luggage to bring home will be one lucky bum/dumpster diver. :) I realized on the way home, I will be that old lady who falls a ton and breaks every bone in my body- hips, elbows, ect. I really need to get a grip on this whole walking thing pronto.
XOXO,
Mandy
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