kate the klutz

officially had her first accident in Paris. Before I launch into an account of my silliness, let me describe the Paris metro stations.

You buy a ticket. You insert the ticket into this little machine that spits it out, imprinted with the indelible stamp of usage. You grasp the ticket and shove yourself against the turnstile, and against two horse-stall like doors that are metal and heavy.

Yesterday, one of those metal doors claimed a nice chunk of my lower lip. Well, perhaps that's a bit much, but yes, it slammed against my lower lip and tore away a piece of skin+more right where my upper and lower lips meet. It bled. My blood is, as confirmed empirically, salty.

I was so mortified, as Parisians seem to gracefully dodge swinging metal doors, and sucked my lip on the metro ride back home, trying not to look stupid. The people on the metro probably thought I had an abusive husband or other hurtful domestic partner.

So much for Paris instilling more grace in me. At least I haven't managed to fall down the narrow winding wooden staircase of my apartment (which is yet again located on the 3ieme etage, 4 floor US). Yay.

Ok, back to studying for my second final (just had my first). Boo.