Dear blog reader(s) - I have a bruise.
It's quite a spectacular bruise, with colors like a Mediterranean sunset. It's all purple and blue and green. I'd call it pretty, if it didn't hurt so dang much.
I acquired this bruise at work and, no, it wasn't because I hip checked my co-workers in a fit of rage.
Essentially, it came to the fact that:
a) I only have two hands
b) I was trying to carry four things (including tea)
c) I have all the spatial awareness of a horse with blinders on
d) I was talking AND walking at the same time
This, my dear reader(s), is a recipe for disaster.
Basically, my tea was looming at a dangerous angle, so instead of being smart and putting something down, I tried to do a creative juggling maneuver and ended up maneuvering my thigh right into the corner of my co-worker's desk.
Ow. ow. ow.
I made a dignified noise (like a stuck pig) and limped off to the bathroom to examine the damage.
Nothing looked out of place so I was all "Oh, it's not that bad...".
And then the bruise came.
And boy, was it a doozy.
I would take a picture, but I don't want to offend the delicate sensibilities of my reader(s).
The sad thing is, this sort of thing has happened before.
In fact, I've actually managed to bruise the heck out of my arm because, get this, I tried to crawl into bed sans glasses and...
I MISSED THE BED.
Oh yes. I mistook the deep shadow around the bed for the bed itself and put my hand...on nothing.
And fell. Onto my bedside table.
I think I need to move to a world where there are no sharp edges or corners.
For my own safety.