A crude depiction of the fall I took off a scaffold at work this Monday afternoon. I fell about seven feet and landed flat on my back. Somehow I wasn't seriously injured. Though still stiff and suspect I have a couple ribs out of place. I have decided that if I am going to go through a fall like that I will at least ascribe it some meaning. So here it is: The fall was my wake up call out of the flummoxed fog of post divorce disorientation. It's been a year now since I moved out into my own apartment. A year marked, if for nothing else, as one spent disoriented and looking for some rhyme and reason to my new existence. Today I played hooky from work, not eager to get back to scaffolds just yet, and spent a long time looking at my life. Mostly inventorying where I am at this point in my existence. What I have going for and against me, and looking at what my options are. It was very instructive inquiry. No new information. Just sort of going back and putting some perspective on it. Mostly I realized I have been in a sort of limbo for the past year. Not moving decisively in any direction. That was probably wise given that I could have done some really stupid things in my various states of mind. But I do think I had sort of got into a trance. A kind of pointless existences. So I think the fall was the universes way of saying; "snap out of it man."