In 2018 I hope to have a real relationship outside of Twitter.

I spent New Year’s Eve at home, with my cat, in a warm dry house, nursing my right hip after a nasty fall in the kitchen.

On New Year’s Eve my lifelong football team, the Philadelphia Eagles, gave away a game they didn’t need (having already won the #1 spot in the NFC playoffs). They gave it away to the nationally despised Dallas Cowboys.

In retrospect, it was a garbage game for both teams and the Eagles started pulling their first-string players early. Dallas didn’t. So they won a meaningless game, thereby guaranteeing themselves a lower position in the April NFL draft.

Suckers. But I digress.

When the game was over I went to the kitchen to grab a big mug of coffee. I nuked it for 80 seconds, then grabbed it and turned toward the living room. And that’s when my leg turned on me.

Or, more accurately, didn’t turn. My left foot was amputated 4 years ago, and I only had half a foot for 6 years before that due to a work accident.

I have realized that in most cases I lose my balance when I try to turn and walk simultaneously. The artificial foot is Type III so it has a sophisticated rotation system, but for whatever reason it decided not to cooperate.

So I fell onto the kitchen floor. Luckily my reaction time is pretty good so I was able to fling my mug on the counter as I was falling. I landed partially on the back of my right hip and partially on my right buttock.

After dragging myself into the living room and crawling into my armchair, I found that I was lucky to only have suffered soft-tissue damage. Fifteen hours later it hurts to move it around, but the prosthesis and residual left leg are just fine.

So thus endeth The Year of Somebody’s Lord 2017.

May it rot in Hell.


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