However, Karen is mostly lying down these days, and not well situated for falling; so to keep up the Brenchley/Williams average, I took the task on myself. It's not hard, when the sidewalks around here are so uneven. Unfortunately they are also concrete, which is hard. So I smashed my lovely glasses irreparably, and cut myself about a bit; and came home and Karen looked at me anxiously and declared that I needed to see a doctor. So I joined one of the other groups on their bus to the clinic: where I was seen successively by two nurses and three doctors in an increasingly elevated hierarchy. There's a cut right at the corner of my eye, and they were worrying about that and whether it might need a stitch or two. They've decided not, probably, ish. At the moment some deviously snipped pieces of sticking-plaster are holding the edges together; they'll look at it again tomorrow, and see if that's doing the job.
Meanwhile, I am mostly wearing my reading-glasses for everything. I do have spare regular glasses, but those are single-vision, and I'd got so used to progressives: I think I'd rather have everything blurry beyond five or six feet than simply not be able to read at all.
And in other news, soddit. Also owie. Much of me is barked or scraped, jolted or twisted or just plain downright sore. I am very resentful.