Well that was a good run. My historically complicated relationship with gravity has returned, literally with a bang.
After an evening out with friends in Montreal I was scurrying down the stairs of the bar to leave and completely wiped out – my friends actually heard me fall from outside. Ouch.
Thankfully I appear more bruised than broken!
Apparently I then decided to apply extreme caution on our snowy walk back to the hotel by walking at an absolute snails pace. My friend Andre kindly offered to give me a piggy back ride (though not as selfless as it sounds, I was a barrier to poutine consumption), which is something I seem to have forgotten from childhood. I completely failed on my end of the piggy – I apparently just hugged his back thinking that was sufficient and when my friends tried to encourage me to jump up to the proper carrying position my tiny hops were hilariously inefficient.
So they resorted to pushing me along while I disapprovingly muttered “Too fast, too fast, too fast.” I’m such a treat when I’m over served.
In other news, I think this really is the height of fashion.