10/20: "I understand; you're a cop."

-I was riding my bike down Prospect Street like a good girl (proverbially speaking), and, diverting my attention from the road to return Jackson's good-natured wave, got plowed down by a rather dirty man in a big red truck. My bike got pretty mangled up, but I escaped with a bruised knee and a badly sprained ankle. While waiting for the ambulance, the driver nervously lit up a cigarette, and I made him give it to me, which seemed to lighten everyone's mood and ensure the witnesses that I was still alive enough to harm myself intentionally. The cop made me stub it out, though, once he showed up.

-At the hospital, an aging male nurse and I had the following conversation: 

"Since you're a lady, you probably would't appreciate my saying that you look like Harry Potter."

"Not at all--that's kind of the look I'm going for."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you had a wand in those blankets there."

"[Honey,] If I had a wand, this [indicating my leg] shit wouldn't be going on."

[The RN chuckles]

Later, he referred to me as "Harriet Potter."

-I am super-psyched to be not concussed or fucked up any worse than I am.  I realized how wonderful it was that I happened to be riding an old racing bike, the type of bike which is basically designed to crash well. In celebration,

-I keep realizing awesome things that happened: when I got home, I watched a DVD of Danny Brylow on Teen Jeopardy circa 2000. My little heart was warmed, especially when Danny told Alex he wanted to be "a theologian," and proceeded to win $7000.