I was unscrewing the bottom of a wet, dripping light fixture in my home office. Because I'm a genius, I was standing on my office chair--which has rollers on it. With one shift of weight, I was on the floor. Landing on my right wrist, left knee and scraping my inside right thigh against the chair (which remained upright).

Mutter singing a line from an old Nine Inch Nails song (I hurt myself today), I lay on the floor for a bit.

Drip, drip, drip.

Wincing a bit as I pushed myself up, I knew I still had some work to do.

I was already achy from a gig the night before, our second in five days. This was recovery day, and I'd spent a few hours in the afternoon shopping to refill necessary supplies. I'd ended up at the wine shop during a wine tasting AND mixology demonstration.

Young couples and old coots were sniffing, swishing and noshing. I was guiding my wine cart between them all. No one else seemed to be stocking up for the upcoming winter (after tasting at least eight different wines, most only bought a bottle or two), so I must have missed the memo that going to the wine shop was more social than economic.

But as I put my case of wine in the trunk, I noticed their outdoor sign said they had Dale's Pale Ale in twelve packs on sale. The grocery store where previously I'd found this tasty beer had stopped stocking it. I still had my wrist band on from the wine-apalooza, so I reentered and was praised by the clerks for my second-thought beer selection.

Baseball was to happen later, and Dale's seemed entirely appropriate for plans of watching the playoffs whilst slowly getting toasted.

But first I was going to watch the episode of "Dollhouse" I'd taped the night before. Except I'd set the VCR wrong, only taping half of the episode. Luckily, you can watch most shows online for free after they air.

And, with my new TV, I could attach my laptop and watch the show as if I'd actually taped it correctly.

This is when I walked into my office to find a wet, brown spot on the carpet.

Eventually I cleaned up the mess as best I could, only limping slightly following my face plant. The drip stopped dripping at about the same time. I left a message for my landlord about the drip. And then took my laptop over to the TV, connecting to it with what I thought would work. But it did not. I did not have the correct connection.

Back to the office with my laptop to sit and watch Dollhouse on the much smaller screen. Accompanied by the stench of wet, old metal.

I crashed the browser about five times when I tried to make it full screen, so the episode played at about four by six inches. But it was a good one and the Dale's was working.

Being dusk by that time, I flipped the light switch in the office on to pick out some vinyl to accompany the baseball game. The light bulb blew.

After installing my last light bulb, I picked out a Queen and a Don Henley and went back to the living room. It was about fifteen past six, so the game should have gotten through all the what have yous and actually started up, but instead House was yelling at one of his comrades to do exactly the opposite of common medical practice.

Would it work?

Whatever, I switched to ESPN and found out the game was postponed till Sunday evening. And all the college football games were blowouts. But the Queen worked.

I'd found a couple of heads up "lucky pennies" earlier in the day on my way to my brother's to pick up the paper.

During "Sheer Heart Attack" I wondered to myself what those two pennies of luck bought me. I decided that, even though I was bruised and sore and achy, I hadn't hurt myself enough to brave the complexities of my horrible health insurance.

And that maybe those lucky pennies made all the difference.

Matt Worley isn't really superstitious, but there's no way he's picking up a tails up penny.