Yesterday morning it was raining, which actually doesn’t bother me that much since I’m from Oregon, land of rain. The only upside to living in Utah is that when I pull an umbrella out of the car and pop it open when the sky is sprinkling, no one makes fun of me. I’m not a weakling. I just hate getting wet.
ANYhow, I had purse, polka-dotted lunch bag, enormous, clear umbrella, and full water bottle in hand, as I trudged up 104 stairs to get to my office building (and that would be my workout for the day, end scene). I got to the doors, fumbled around to open one, and
very gently launched my water bottle to the ground. This, in and of itself, wouldn’t have been that big of a deal if it hadn’t, you know, grazed assaulted my right shin. I’d say this was almost as awesome as the time when I tripped going up say 104 stairs, just the other day.
The Low Point
By the time I arrived at my desk, I had a goose egg on my leg. I’ve had one other goose egg in my life, and it was when I was about 6 and was privy enough to be in the backseat of our Subaru hatchback when a kid ran a red light and slammed into the car, launching my tiny face into the metal poles of the headrest in front of me.
Goose eggs are not my favorite thing ever.
I’d take a picture of it, but I haven’t shaved my legs recently, and lest you mistake my bruised shin for a man’s, I’ll just leave it up to your imagination. IT’S, LIKE, THE SIZE OF AN EXERCISE BALL.* And, as we remember, just last week my water bottle attempted to land me in a magazine article on embarrassing moments. So it might just be time for us to part ways.
Plus it makes me feel like I’m drinking out of a sippy cup.
*It might not be that big. It might actually be the size of a dime.