Wouldn't Ya Know It!

Life has an eerie way of jumping up and biting me in the rear just when I decide to do something about getting rid of it (my rear, that is). I started actually working out on Thursday. The following Monday was Memorial Day. What did I do? I got myself hurt! I played softball in our church's annual Adult-versus-Teen game, and in the second inning, I hurt my leg.

For some reason known only to the sadistic groundskeeper, a substance closely resembling cat litter was all over the field. This was supposed to soak up moisture. (Haven't they ever heard of lime powder?) Anyway, we switched up the infield the second inning so a guy could pitch, so I took over catcher. I was going for a foul ball, and my right ankle hit some uneven ground, causing it to roll. Because I was planting on that foot, I fell on the outside of my left calf. That cat litter tore up my skin like Fi-Fi on a rubbing post! And I didn't even catch the ball! At least I could have gone out in a blaze of glory, but no! I went out with the image blazed in my mind of my big ol' 37 year old tookus bouncing around behind home plate, not to mention the next of kin to a carpet burn the size of Dallas on my left leg!

How much more humiliation can one take?