Ever since my pregnancy with my first child, I became an extremely cautious and careful person. Let's step back. Let me take you back to my early years when I either had fresh, bloody scrapes or a huge scab on my knees, at all times. I can't even begin to guess how many times I've fallen down in my life: 500, 5000, 5 hundred thousand? I once fell in the middle of the street in NYC and looked down to find that I had tripped on absolutely nothing. I've fallen up and down flights of stairs. I have an embarrassing falling-in-the-nude-in-public story, which I will not elaborate on any more. Speaking from experience, it is particularly important that you are more careful when you are in such a vulnerable situation. As a mature adult in the corporate world, I fell over a half-flight of stairs in front of the fountain, which is in the middle of the plaza at my office building. That was particularly memorable because while I was falling in slow-mo, I heard hundreds of loud *gasps*, but somehow landed victoriously on my feet and spared myself from a very nasty spill.
Well, I thought the curse had left me when I got pregnant, because miraculously one day I was accident-prone no more. But, to my dismay, it has mysteriously returned. Today I made a big boo-boo and smashed the back window of my 1-year old minivan while backing up into my garage, which is going to cost me $400 to repair. My bruised shins and bluish black toenail have returned, too. Oh well. Now that the curse is back, I guess I should start setting aside an accident fund.
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