Ouch! But At Least I Remember What Happened

I woke up to a beautiful, hangover free morning this morning and after two walks with the foster dog, Daisy, the cap'n and I headed into Progreso to pick up some more bougainvilla to put somewhere. I was walking across the town square contemplating the coco heladio (coconut ice cream) I was going to get on my return across the square when I found myself sprawled on the sidewalk. Who put that step there? The old Mexican ladies sitting on the bench in their pure white huipils hid their toothless grins behind their hands and tried to look concerned. One of them said something in Spanish that I'm sure, loosely translated, meant, "The taller the Gringos are, the harder they fall." At 5'5'' I'm considered a giant among the tiny Mayan women. I immediately laid blame where it was due. On the cap'n, who hadn't warned me about the step, and the Mexican government, who hadn't posted a sign, warning me about the step. I hobbled to the curb and the cap'n went back to get the car to come pick me up. On top of all that, I didn't get my damn ice cream cone either. Wah!
But you know what was great about it? I wasn't drunk. Big deal, you say, it was only 11:00 am. "So what?" says me, "I've been drunk at 11:00 am before. Lots of times. As a matter of fact, I've probably been drunk at every hour on the clock at one time or another." Just one week ago today, I had an appointment to renew my visa at 9:00 am and I had a Mountain Dew with a "tooter" sitting in the drink holder of the car. I had just spent two days weaning off of a 10 day binge, plus two more days without a drop, but I was still shaky and I thought a little anti-shake elixir might make my multiple signatures on multiple documents a little more legible. And maybe keep the official's eyebrows in their normal official position instead of in an elevated state of alert when she noticed my tremor. I didn't drink it, but I thought about it and yes, my hand did shake a little, but I was the only one that noticed.
So today I'm kind of proud that I fell on my ass and I wasn't drunk and I actually remember why my ankle hurts and my knee is skinned. When I limp around for the next few days, all my so-called friends will assume I was drunk on my ass when I fell on my ass and no matter how much I deny it, they won't believe me. But I know I wasn't. It ain't much to be proud of but it's all I've got. Actually, it is much.
Day 5 down the tube and I'm just out there doing my best to stay upright and not swell up…with pride.