There are those days when gravity takes everything personally. Dropping, falling, and egregious entropy increases when we accidentally—yeah, right—drop the coffee canister on the floor. I don’t think I’m being clumsy. Nobody is that clumsy. I think I have somehow offended Graviton or Gia herself. Perhaps Gravity is feeling un-felt; it might even be feeling a bit depressed by my upright attitude and my stubborn commitment to bipedal locomotion. Perhaps it feels like my cane is some form of cheating.

Alas, Gravity surrenders its grip as I lie on the ground after a fall, taking inventory of internal damages, or at the end of each day. When I give up the verticality and surrender to its indomitable pull by showing my respect in supplicating humility for 8-10 hours before, if you will excuse the expression, rising to the occasion of waking up.

Oh, bother. I am sure Gravity won’t let that go. That’s a real downer.