>Hurting Pride

>…which is a euphemism for “sore ass.” The parking lot this morning was apparently frozen over and I, schlepping in with my purse, two bags and venti maple macchiato, did not know this… and, well, you can imagine what happened.

I ate it.

Not once, but twice. My shoe skidded across the lot. I ended up with macchiato from stem to stern. My tailbone smacked asphalt twice. The entire coffee spilled directly into and on my purse (which I think is now ruined). My palms got skinned. And my pride got severly bruised.

And the whole seminary knows it, darn it. Not just because I’m walking funny, smelling of coffee, and sticky all over. Because they’re concerned. Want to know if I’m okay. And for some odd reason, though I’m touched by the caring, that’s when my pride hurts.

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