My sister was talking recently about being clumsy and man, it is going around. I'm generally pretty cautious because I have a habit of, oh, fainting and/or puking at the sight (or idea) of blood, but lately I'd been stupidly injury prone and I really mean the stupid part. Hark:
This morning I was sleeping and somehow in my dream-state-thrashing I managed to rake my hand across our The End Up headboard (read: fucking splintery raw crate wood) and woke myself up by practically sliced off the top of my pinky finger knuckle. I remember thinking, "ow, I think that really hurt!" before falling back asleep. I woke up an hour later with a bloody crust of a knuckle, which I delighted in showing Kenny right before we ate breakfast.
Speaking of my darling husband, he's damn ticklish and also likes to be barefoot. This is basically like dangling lipstick in front of a hungry hockey mom. Every time we're watching TV and Kenny has his feet up on the foot rest, I feel the need to go in for the kill. I did this last week not taking into account that he'd just clipped his toenails...into razor sharp points. I now have a two-inch long scratch on my wrist because of his damn toes. He claims self-defense on this one.
Last Sunday we were mountain biking on a really narrow hillside trail. It was near the end of the ride and I was tired and not really paying attention. I tried to ride over a section of rocks without enough momentum and did a stupidly slow fall towards the cliff-side of the trail. I shrieked like a girl and grabbed a sapling on my way down. My bike fell on top of me which was just so graceful. I have some nice scratches on my leg and my arm and, as a bonus, I'm now attractively dotted with poison ivy. PRETTY GIRL.