They say bad things come in threes. Well, I think I’m on number thirty-three.

I had a totally un-glamorous accident Friday night. I tripped over something (most likely my own feet) in my bedroom, fell backward and hit my back right below the kidney on the corner of the night stand. Other than having the wind knocked out of me, I thought nothing of it and went to bed. Was fine until I tried to turn over in my sleep and woke up yelping in pain. Spent the rest of the night like that – doze, turn, yelp. My husband slept through everything.

Next morning I announced that he needed to take me to the ER. I was sure I had ruptured something. Two hours and many X-rays later, I was home with an ice pack and a prescription for Percoset. Possible hairline fracture of the rib. Definite deep chest contusion. Now I know what football players feel like when they’ve been speared with a helmet.

I spent Saturday on the couch, icing, sleeping and popping Percoset while my husband took our house guests into the City to do the Christmas tourist thing. And of course, it’s month end closing for me; I can’t afford to miss work. So I’m toughing it out everyday, making the commute (sans Percoset – I drive part of the way). And believe me, the very definition of toughing it out is riding the NYC Subway system during rush hour when you feel like you’ve been kicked by a mule. Moans or whimpers the come as a result of bumps and jostles, only serve to make people pretend you don’t exist.

We’re in the home stretch though. A new year is coming up fast. A chance to start fresh and with it, a much better run of luck I hope!  Yet the truth is that there will always be rough patches.  When things are going well, we fool ourselves into thinking that’s how they’ll stay.  But it hasn’t been that way since Pandora opened that stupid box.  The trick is to always remember that everything changes; nothing stays the same.  Appreciate the good times while you have them and know that the bad stuff will pass too.

In the meantime….

“My little Rosanne Rosannadanna, it’s always something.” Oh Gilda Radner, how right you were.