The Hazards of Sidewalks
Oct. 27th, 2004 09:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shadowkatShel Silverstein wrote a poem called at Sidewalks End...I bet the sidewalk he was referring to didn't have uneven tiles, placed ill-fittingly next to one another.
Strictly speaking - sidewalks tend to be safe, protecting pedesterians from street traffic such as cars, skateboards and bicycles (well on most occassions). Yes, you run into the occassional dog poop or icy patch, but technically speaking? They should be safe, non-hazardous places to walk.
Except in NYC or on my block, where the tiles are ill-fittingly placed, so one may actually be above another - like a centimeter step. How is this hazardous?
Well...
Yesterday morning I got it into my head to take my laundry in prior to work.
(I dumped it off at the laundramat and let them do it this round. The reason?
I'd found a silver fish crushed in my sheets and my bed cover looked dirty - this made me feel crawly enough to take the whole kit and kaboodle to the mat.)
The laundramat is two blocks away, not far from the subway. So dropping it off on the way to work makes sense. Plus - this was a good day to do it. Nice outside. No rain. I had a "new employee orientation" at the Brooklyn division of the new company - two subway stops away, and didn't have to be there until close to 9. So had a little time. I took off at 8:15 and felt a little pressed.
(Planned on getting out earlier). Lugged my cart, laundry bag, and work bag down the steps with me, and to the sidewalk - then proceeded to push cart with bag as quickly as possible. Cart hit an upraised side of a tile, tipped forward, tossing me over it and to the side, I managed to roll, breaking my fall somewhat, but landed hard on my palms, left side and knee. (Basically
imagine someone getting thrown by a laundry cart and you have a good picture of what happened.) I look up, bruised, skinned hand, but more or less intact.
Laundry cart is tipped over, bag still in it, thank god. Clothes still in bag.
In front of me about ten-fifteen feet away stand two formally dressed people getting ready to go somewhere in their car. They are standing there staring at me with their jaws half open. After a moment, the woman asks, not moving, "are you okay?" Yes. I mutter. Nodding. I think so. Studying my abraised hand which is bleeding and burns and the bruise forming. "Do you need any help?" No. I mutter. Fine. I pick myself up, realizing as I do so that my palm isn't the only thing bruised, left knee hurts like hell. Limp over to cart. Push it to mat. Ask for band-aids which they kindly provide. Leave cart and bag at mat.
Go to subway, make it to orientation - where they provide new bandaids and ointment. Hand is barely functional all morning. So thankfully just had to listen. At 1pm, orientation is over, race to office in Manhattan. Bandaids come off. Use hand-sanitizer to clean wound again. Take Motrin. Do work. Go home. Get bandaids. Pick up laundry. Lug it back. Once home, dress wounds, and make bed. Whew. Today - needless to say, I ache. Whole right side feels like someone hit it with a bat. Note to self - Sidewalks? Hazardous!
As an aside - was thinking on the way home today about livejournal. How people interact with it? Do people just update their own and treat it as a sort of live journal they write in daily, caring not who reads or doesn't read? Do they treat it as their personal letter writing group - ie. an exchange amongst ten-twenty people of emails while at work? Do they treat it as an information resource on all sorts of topics? A way of connecting with people they'd never know otherwise? A way of meeting new people? Is it like exchanging letters with people who may or may not respond?
Not sure. For me, I guess it's all of the above. Or I've been known to use it in all of the above ways. As a means of connecting, as a way of keeping my writing alive, as an information resource...
Now...it seems to be more of a journal that I update with my spontaneous and myriad thoughts from time to time or when the urge overwhelms me. Since I regrettably don't have time to read others entries in as much depth as I once did. I miss that.
Strictly speaking - sidewalks tend to be safe, protecting pedesterians from street traffic such as cars, skateboards and bicycles (well on most occassions). Yes, you run into the occassional dog poop or icy patch, but technically speaking? They should be safe, non-hazardous places to walk.
Except in NYC or on my block, where the tiles are ill-fittingly placed, so one may actually be above another - like a centimeter step. How is this hazardous?
Well...
Yesterday morning I got it into my head to take my laundry in prior to work.
(I dumped it off at the laundramat and let them do it this round. The reason?
I'd found a silver fish crushed in my sheets and my bed cover looked dirty - this made me feel crawly enough to take the whole kit and kaboodle to the mat.)
The laundramat is two blocks away, not far from the subway. So dropping it off on the way to work makes sense. Plus - this was a good day to do it. Nice outside. No rain. I had a "new employee orientation" at the Brooklyn division of the new company - two subway stops away, and didn't have to be there until close to 9. So had a little time. I took off at 8:15 and felt a little pressed.
(Planned on getting out earlier). Lugged my cart, laundry bag, and work bag down the steps with me, and to the sidewalk - then proceeded to push cart with bag as quickly as possible. Cart hit an upraised side of a tile, tipped forward, tossing me over it and to the side, I managed to roll, breaking my fall somewhat, but landed hard on my palms, left side and knee. (Basically
imagine someone getting thrown by a laundry cart and you have a good picture of what happened.) I look up, bruised, skinned hand, but more or less intact.
Laundry cart is tipped over, bag still in it, thank god. Clothes still in bag.
In front of me about ten-fifteen feet away stand two formally dressed people getting ready to go somewhere in their car. They are standing there staring at me with their jaws half open. After a moment, the woman asks, not moving, "are you okay?" Yes. I mutter. Nodding. I think so. Studying my abraised hand which is bleeding and burns and the bruise forming. "Do you need any help?" No. I mutter. Fine. I pick myself up, realizing as I do so that my palm isn't the only thing bruised, left knee hurts like hell. Limp over to cart. Push it to mat. Ask for band-aids which they kindly provide. Leave cart and bag at mat.
Go to subway, make it to orientation - where they provide new bandaids and ointment. Hand is barely functional all morning. So thankfully just had to listen. At 1pm, orientation is over, race to office in Manhattan. Bandaids come off. Use hand-sanitizer to clean wound again. Take Motrin. Do work. Go home. Get bandaids. Pick up laundry. Lug it back. Once home, dress wounds, and make bed. Whew. Today - needless to say, I ache. Whole right side feels like someone hit it with a bat. Note to self - Sidewalks? Hazardous!
As an aside - was thinking on the way home today about livejournal. How people interact with it? Do people just update their own and treat it as a sort of live journal they write in daily, caring not who reads or doesn't read? Do they treat it as their personal letter writing group - ie. an exchange amongst ten-twenty people of emails while at work? Do they treat it as an information resource on all sorts of topics? A way of connecting with people they'd never know otherwise? A way of meeting new people? Is it like exchanging letters with people who may or may not respond?
Not sure. For me, I guess it's all of the above. Or I've been known to use it in all of the above ways. As a means of connecting, as a way of keeping my writing alive, as an information resource...
Now...it seems to be more of a journal that I update with my spontaneous and myriad thoughts from time to time or when the urge overwhelms me. Since I regrettably don't have time to read others entries in as much depth as I once did. I miss that.
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no subject
Date: 2004-10-28 10:01 am (UTC)Some people who tell us they are 16-22, in their posts sound like 35-45 year olds. While others who claim to be above the age of 30, act like teenagers. People are odd.
And I think, the sense of anynomity can bring out the worst in some folks. A friend of mine told me a story once about a gal who never cursed, hated conflict in real life, but online cursed like a fiend, and started posting board wars. The two people were one and the same.
Her monster got unleashed whenever she entered the internet.