CRASH, BANG, SMASH!

As many of you (okay, all of you) know, I am a complete klutz. If I come within 80 yards of a flight of stairs, I will trip. In fact, I was on a retreat with choir once and I happened to run (full speed) into a fire pit that was in the middle of a HUGE courtyard. What are the chances??

Most of my trips to the hospital are the result of my a) stabbing myself with something sharp, ie. knives or glass of some kind b) falling out of something, ie. truck or window c) tripping in general.

Maybe God is trying to keep me humble and I will have to earn the gift of gracefulness. But I am not sweating it...well, maybe a little, but only during my belly dancing class. I was under the impression that I was graceful until I came home and watched myself in the mirror. Whoa.

Well, today (ah, today) was no exception...I bent down to get something out of the cupboard, and as I stood up a small asteroid penetrated the atmosphere, blazed through the sky, went through my upstairs neighbor's apartment ceiling and floor and smashed into my skull. I felt it crush a little (my skull, not the asteroid).

I put my hand on it, sure that brain matter was pouring out the gaping hole. Jeremy stared at me wide-eyed.
"I am so sorry!" he exclaimed. "Let me look at it!"
At the time I had a frying pan in my hand I knew I needed to distance myself from my darling husband before I beaned him one.

I locked myself into the bathroom, looked at myself in the mirror, noted my watery, red eyes, pryed my hands from the frying pan handle, and removed my hand from the dent on my head. No joking, I WAS bleeding. What the heck!?

I wadded up some toilet paper and gingerly put it on my wound. I then wandered out to the kitchen and got myself some ice. Jeremy was contrite. He knows he knows better than to leave cupboard doors open when I am around. I am a disaster waiting to happen. If the equation is A + B = C, then I am A, and C is disaster. Anything (and everything) is B. Jeremy just lined it up for me. HA HA HA!

Anyway, I got a catered lunch out of it.

"Do you want one egg, or two?" Jeremy called out to me as I lay limply on the couch.

"One," my voice wavered.

"Bacon?"

"Yes..."

"Apple?"

"Okay..."

"Caviar?"
"Just a little bit..."

Ah...Happy Valentine's Day!