Klutz Kween

So, I haven't written in a while.
4th of July has come and gone. The fireworks over Otis Reservoir have also passed. It seems the big summer milestones are completed and it's the slow decline through the final few weeks until kids return to school and the fall colored denim jeans make their return to clothing stores.

I will not be among those people returning to school. After 16 plus years of going to Staples for school supplies or American Eagle for some new clothes, I just continue on with life as usual. Weird feeling.

Side note: this Green Mountain Keurig coffee is terrible. It tastes like sweetened battery acid. That's going down the drain later.

Anyways, I guess what I want to write about today is something that happened over the weekend. Some may find it humorous, others may think its stupid. I don't care. I feel like writing. And this is what the topic for today is. Klutziness

So this past weekend, I was at Paul's and I had to use the bathroom. We dropped my brother off down at the beach and were gonna go back down, but I was NOT using the port-o-potty, or, even worse, the woods. So instead of waking my whole family up with the garage door, Paul was running home and said I could go there. Great. Problem solved. Used the bathroom, grabbed a water, and we sat and chit chatted for a few before I realized how late it was and needed to head home. So he walked me to the door, deciding he was just gonna stay home. I said goodbye and was walking to my car. Don't you think my ankle gives out on me as I'm trying to make it down the ONE STEP there is?!?! I heard a crack like a twig and go tumbling into the vinyl siding of the house, giving my right knee a lovely black and blue to sport for the next few days as well. Paul either heard or saw me fall through the glass on the door and cam running back outside. I think he thought I hit my head. Nope. Just couldn't stand on my left ankle. And it freaking HURT dude. So he carried me inside and put ice on it. He was freaking out just a little bit. Said I scared him. I thought he'd know me better by now. I trip over my own two feet at least 10 times A DAY. I'm also accident prone. A klutz. It amazes me I can run 8-10 miles without crashing and burning, but I get home and manage to fall up the stairs or trip over the edge of the carpet.

I was able to drive myself back home after putting it up for a little bit with ice. I told my mom in the morning and she called me a ding a ling, just as she herself slid and fell down the first couple stairs in Otis. Yeah. I see where I get it from.

Can we just flash back to when I had my wisdom teeth pulled? They gave me medication to knock out a 350 pound man. I believe I was around 105 pounds at this time. Yeah. So I get home from my surgery, all loopy, completely unaware of the blood pouring out of my butchered gums. I'm serious. This stuff was great. I didn't feel anything. Don't remember certain things. But when it wore off and I took more with my night bowl of oatmeal, I was in for trouble. First of all, my family blames me, but obviously I was in a drug induced stupor. Do not give me oatmeal when you know the pieces might get stuck in an empty socket! So an oat swims its way through my mouth and gets a vice grip on that socket. I'm not even thinking, go back with my tongue to remove it, start sweating, and then everything goes back. Michael says I sounded like a dying animal. Mom says I hit my head on the kitchen table. I woke up and thought I just took a nap and asked why they put me on the kitchen floor. They're both shaking and my body is all sweaty. So they sit me in a chair, only to have me conk out again. Ambulance shows up by this point and a rather large woman hefts me into her arms and tosses me in the back of the truck. Not a fun night. IVs are not my favorite thing in the world. I tried biting the nurse when she put it in my arm.

And the next day...I felt human again. That was all a dream right? Nope. I managed to have a procedure that is relatively routine turn into a medical disaster.

If I learned anything, it's that I am accident prone. I usually have the worst happen in many situations. I was the band aid queen when I was little. I christened our newly paved driveway as I propelled from my bicycle, skinning both knees and elbows. I fell up the stairs and somehow landed squarely on the only sharp object, gouging a scar into my knee. And let's not forget being tossed off Sprinkles and breaking my arm when I was 7. Or sliding down a hill on loose acorns during X-Country. OR wearing a loose sweatshirt and getting picked up by the wind during practice. Yeah. Murphy, thanks for your law. I'm pretty sure you should add my name to some part of it.

Disclaimer: I still attempt stupid things every day. These past events have ceased to hinder me. I just make sure I have a large stock of band-aids or gauze on hand.

Sorry for the lame post today. I don't really have much else to say. I don't think anyone cares about my work days at the office, or how I went for a run in Otis the other day and swallowed about 20 gnats (ew).

I might be going to see Savages tonight. It has Selma's Hayeks in it as my dad would say. Maybe I'll write about the movie tomorrow. It won't be as good as Ted. I couldn't stop laughing during that one. We'll see.