Day of Clumsiness and Pain

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.

Shaving Snafu

Yesterday morning was pretty typical.  Woke up at 7:32, not in any hurry to get started with the business of the day, perfectly aware that I had to be out of the house no later than 8:09 to make it to my morning meeting.  I did make it out of the house precisely at 8:09, but there was a good deal of bloodshed as a result.

I vaguely remember that my mom was worried about me the first time I shaved my legs.  Her concern seemed ridiculous then, but I’m starting to understand her point of view.  Even in the hands of someone with years of experience, a sharp razor can have a mind of its own.

Oddly enough, I seem to be getting worse at shaving as I get older, not better.  And it’s not because I’m so old that I’m losing the ability to hold things steadily.  I’m still in my mid-twenties for crying out loud!  I have two new wounds to show for yesterday morning, and there are at least four from previous days that haven’t finished healing yet.  My poor legs probably desperately wish they belonged to someone with more manual dexterity or someone who woke up with enough time to care about these things.

This also makes me super glad that I’m not a man.  At least when I cut myself, it’s somewhere not that noticeable on my legs.  Nobody cares if your ankle or knee is bleeding profusely at work.  If this situation happened around my face, it would be a whole new world of sad.  (Good job for handling that, guys.)

I might be turning over a new leaf soon.  There’s a Clocky alarm clock being shipped to me this very moment.  In case you don’t know/remember what that is, it’s the one that rolls away from you when it starts beeping.  It isn’t some weak “I’m going to roll to the other side of the bedside table” thing, either.  It jumps off of your bedside table so you have to chase it around the floor.  Can’t wait.  I was mostly reading reviews of it for humor value, but people seem to genuinely like the thing.  If they can handle crawling under their beds to find the alarm clock, I guess I can, too.