01 March 2004 - 3:44 PM
Even had the calendar not told me so, I would have known today was Monday.
Two teachers were out sick at the outset. Two more left to go home during first period, causing frantic scrambles for in-house coverage of their classes. Lunch conversation revolved around 'The Passion' rather than the Oscars. And I was stricken by one of my more exquisite attacks of the gracefuls.
It was at lunch. I was trying to get a cold soda from the machine in the faculty room, and had to scoot sideways between two people to get to the machine. Something about the sideways motion, the carpet, and my own brand of left-handed luck coincided, and I went down like the proverbial tonne of bricks.
I have been just graceful enough just often enough in my life to have learned how to fall, at least. The most important thing is to fall. Don't fight it, don't try to catch yourself, or you'll hurt yourself worse than if you just took the tumble.
When I hit the floor, there was a sharp intake of collective breath from the assembled faculty, then silence. Even the one conservative who was building up to a full-blown rant on why 'the libs in Hollywood' would 'see to it' that 'The Passion' is not nominated for an Oscar next year stopped talking.
I stayed down for what was probably no more than a few seconds, while I took inventory. Ankles? Untwisted. Knees? Bruised but not broken. Left hip? Well upholstered, thank you. Right wrist? OK. Left wrist? Medial nerve no more agitated than usual.
As I started to get back up, there was a great exhaling and a babble of voices asked if I was all right. I was starting to answer them when the Drama Coach, who has known me since I was in high school and probably realised once I started moving that I was in fact OK, cut through the chatter.
'Oh, come on,' she said. '"Sex and the City" is over. Falling out of your shoes is so yesterday.'
Well, yes. I doubt anyone's going to confuse me with any of the actresses from the series, either. I'm too short and too well upholstered for that. I tend to wear Danskos rather than Manolos when I have to wear shoes at all.
The really sad part? I did spend the money Maman gave me for dancing lessons on ballet classes, not on bubblegum.
But at least people stopped talking about that stupid movie.