Yesterday really did have its good moments, so as you read this, please realize that I’m writing with a smile on my face. I basically had my very own America’s Funniest Home Videos episode last night, minus the camera and the canned laughter.
First, I’ll set the scene. I have a really nice bruise on my right knee and a tiny piece of twig in my left ankle. Neither is worth mentioning, except that they show that yesterday wasn’t an isolated incident. I seem to get clumsier as I get older. In middle school, when everybody else was spilling stuff on themselves and getting cuts and bruises all the time, I was totally put together. Not anymore.
The third wound is where the fun started yesterday. I was supposed to bake cookies on Monday night for a community group activity on Tuesday morning, but I fell asleep waiting for the dough to chill. Somebody should enjoy the cookies anyway, so the baking went forward a day behind schedule. As I was taking the second cookie sheet out of the oven, maybe somewhat distracted by the scent of goodness wafting towards me, I pushed the cookie sheet onto the stove with my forearm. Oops. Got a nice burn and dropped the cookie sheet immediately, leaving a pile of crumbles that used to be cookies on the floor.
I wasn’t too distraught about that, so I took a relaxing delivery walk with the contents of the first cookie sheet. I love leaving things for people. When I was a kid, my mom and I picked flowers from our garden and left little mini-bouquets on our neighbors’ doorsteps on May Day. Knowing that people would walk out of the house to surprise flowers probably made my day better than theirs. See, doing nice things for other people can be totally selfish. How sweet.
So I was feeling good, listening to music, entirely past the burned arm. Then I skipped up from the road to the curb, happy as could be until the split second when I kind of half fell and my left leg felt like it had exploded from knee to thigh.
I hobbled home, did my thing, and thought I might never be able to walk without a limp again. I’ll let my leg speak for itself:
It’s a lot better this morning. Nothing a heat pack and some ice cream won’t heal in a few days. Someday I’ll learn not to catch hot cookie sheets with my bare arm or trip into extreme pain. Until then, I’ll just keep laughing at myself. At least my heart is healthy because of all the laughter.