Grace

I fall a lot. Don't believe me?

Remember this? And this? Oh, and here. That was a good one. Wait! I have one more.

Oops. I did it again. I totally busted it as I was leaving work the other day. Confession: I was texting a co-worker about something urgent as I was walking down the stairs. Okay, okay. Full disclosure: I was texting Mary Elizabeth about pedicure plans. (It's not completely untrue. She IS a co-worker and I urgently needed to get my toes done.)

Anyway, I evidently missed a stair, slipped, and fell to the second-floor landing. Actually, I kind of skidded to the landing. Bruised ankle? Check. Bruised shin? Check. Bruised ego? Check.

Thankfully no one saw me, really, except for our sweet security guard who yelled out and jumped up from behind the desk to come help my crumpled self. But, no thank you, kind sir, I wouldn't care for any extra attention. I held up my hand and hollered down that I was alright. And then I swept the hair out of my eyes, hoisted myself up, picked up my bag, and carefully limped down the stairs and out the door. I have that walk of shame mastered.