Well, folks, I’m back.
Some of you may recall my close encounter of the third kind with a door for the physically handicapped. Coldfire laughed at me when I told this story in a “the most stupid thing you’ve ever managed to do” thread in MPSIMS, many months ago. Basically, I had managed to fracture my skull on a firedoor, by walking headfirst into its sharp edge. It was held open by a mechanism (you know, the pushbutton kind), which let go just as I was walking towards it. The door clicked, the mechanism let go, and it swung shut… but not before I managed to walk into it, fracture my skull, and pass out on the floor of the university’s library building. Big-ass two inch thick metal doors, ya know, to keep fire out and to knock out idiots like me.
Well, I think I’ve managed to top this incident.
Yesterday, I was gleefully picking up dog toys off my patio. Sophie, the golden retriever, brings out all her stuffed animals outdoors to suckle (she’s always done this) and every time it bloody rains, I have to wash all of them free of dirt, water, and bugs. Anyway, so I was picking up Sophie’s toys. I bent down with efficient zeal, near the cast-iron table. Said table has chairs. Also cast-iron. In my previously mentioned zeal and enthusiasm, I didn’t see the chair. I whacked my forehead on the back of the chair - did I say it was cast-iron, bloody hard, and with a protruding rope-style pattern?
As I engaged in this intimate chair-forehead encounter, there was a loud thump. The chair vibrated, as did my jaw. Sophie and the other dogs barked and howled. I managed to swear a few times before passing out for no more than 20 seconds. Alternating between concern for her daughter and bubbling laughter at her accident-prone spawn-of-the-devil-offspring, my mother ran outside to make sure I was still in one piece.
I now have yet another egg growing on my forehead. It is about an inch to the left of the former skull fracture site, right between the eyes. Really, I look quite spiffy.
My doctor, who knows me as “the door!” laughed hysterically at me again, and thanked me for another good story to share at the next staff party. Apparently I’m really well liked there. I was asked to make a personal appearance. I may well do that. He had x-rays of my skull taken, saw yet another hairline fracture (that’s number 13, for the record, I’m really a pro at this), gave me demerol, put in two tiny tiny stitches and sent me on my way.
So… I am not allowed to sleep for the next 12 hours - he told me 24 hours of short sleep bouts with someone waking me up every 30 minutes or so. I’m bloody tired, and cranky, and have a monster headache.
Oh, did I mention I have to go to a meeting at an upper-crust private school on Thursday? They are helping me raise funds for a community child who is undergoing surgery this week in Chicago. Boy will I look smart. Maybe I can tell them I hit my head while doing something really dangerous, like skydiving… anything but “well, Ma’am, I was picking up dog toys when…”
sigh
I wish I had Scylla’s talent for story-telling, but hey, blame it on the egg.
Elenfair