Yesterday, I was perfectly healthy. Today, I am a gimp. Would you like to know how this happened? I’ll tell you how.
Last night, I was walking to a bar with Katie and Grant. It had snowed recently, and I was being extra careful in my heels not to slip on the ice. I had to be extra careful because—if you know me, this is will hardly come as a shock—I happen to be particularly prone to hilarious mishaps. I know this well. I also know that God absolutely refuses to miss any opportunity to injure me in a hilarious way. Maybe it’s because my improv background causes me to involuntarily emit cartoonish sound effects to accompany my real life pratfalls; maybe it’s divine retribution for the unnecessary pranks I play on those I love; maybe it’s just for funsies.
Whatever the case, you can bet your bottom dollar I slipped on that ice.
However, I didn’t fall! I recovered! For once my reflexes actually decided to come to my aid instead of focusing on making me scream out a useless cartoon noise.
Glowing with a sense of utter victory, I cried out, “HaHA! Nice try, God!”
Then, I took another step and went down hard.
Touché, God. Touché.