So last night, on my way home, I fell off my bike.
I was on my way home, and I was riding, crossing the street, when a pedestrian starts walking down the street. So I use the road, to avoid him, and at the next “on” ramp (aka driveway) I turn to go up the sidewalk.
So the pedestrian helps me up, grabs all of my items that have FLEW all over the sideway (including the things in my basket–sandals, penguin-shaped thermos) and then he goes on. I am bleeding from the hand, and my leg is killing me. Probably is scraped, but I am wearing footless tights. So I am like “It’s ok, I’m ok, what do I do?” I look into the pouch underneath my seat, thinking maybe Jeff stored a secret first aid kit. He did NOT. So, Girl Scout Jennie pulls a hair tie (I had 2 in my hair) off her hair, takes some tissues from my bag, and fashions a bandage around her hand/thumb. Done. Not worrying about the leg, because it’s covered. I get on my bike to keep going….but the chain has fallen off.
So I am calm as a cucumber. I call Jeff:
“Hey babe, I am fine, but I fell off my bike.”
“OK….are you sure you’re OK?”
“Yes, but the chain fell off. What do I do?”
Jeff explains to me I merely put it back on, and it’ll push itself into place. Fine, fine. I do this, clean my hands off with more tissues and water, and then ride on. I’m ok, I keep telling myself.
I get home, wash out my leg, clean my hand, and wait on the couch covered in bacitracin until Jeff got home. Then, when Cor finally got home, I had her pick out the gravel, since Jeff insisted it could stay there because it’d push itself out.
Family is: someone who will pick the gravel out of your hand with tweezers and not bat an eyelash. Even though they were at work from 8 am until 8:30 pm. That’s love.
Meanwhile, I will begin biking again tomorrow…