I have a rather nice bruise on my upper lip which makes it look as though I am – but, in fact, I’m not growing a mustache.
I’ve been taking the train to work – the trains, actually, since I have to catch one from my neighborhood into town to catch the one that goes up near where I work. In the morning, I’ve got about 15 minutes even if I go all the way to the first of the main stations actually in the city (Market East). Coming home, though, the schedule is such that if I go to Market East, I’ve just missed a train and have to wait about 40, 45 minutes. If I get off a stop early, though, at Temple University – five minutes away – I’ve actually got a full minute to run down one flight of stairs and up another and catch my train. (As long as the first train isn’t late, of course.) Making this connection gets me home at 7 instead of 8, so it’s well worth the sprint.
Except last night I lost my footing going up the second set of stairs, banged my knee (though didn’t tear my tights or bruise my leg), and landed face first against the corner of a step. Luckily (insofar as something like that can be described as “lucky”), I hit myself on the bony area right below my nose, so didn’t break my nose, and didn’t break any teeth, as I might have otherwise – I hit the step pretty hard, because I was going at a pretty good clip. I got home and washed off a smudge of dirt and there was no blood, so despite being sore, I thought that was it.
Nope. Just used the bathroom, and, while washing my hands, noticed I have a handsome bruise on my upper lip – which looks like a teenaged boy’s first effort at a mustache.
For those who are wondering, perhaps she’s exaggerating – nope, we’re up to three people looking at me, doing a double take, and asking “what the hell happened to you?” IME, a minor boo-boo doesn’t generally elicit that level of response.
Sigh.
off to research Groucho glasses, which would be way less conspicuous
