It was a dark and stormy night. Well, it was, you know. Though I guess most nights are dark. And many are stormy this time of year. Anyhow, we’d had a dinner party at a certain someone’s place last night. Aferwards we left, en masse, without anyone thinking to turn on the porchlight. The rain had slickened the somewhat uneven steps. I was carrying my sleeping son down said steps (and just why do sleeping children weigh five times more than they do awake?) when the rubber bottoms of my sandals slid just so. So that I landed, with great force, on my knees. Instead of using my upper body to brace myself I was using it to cradle and shield my son. He came through without a scratch (but a bit alarmed). I was not so lucky. I hobbled (again with the hobbling) to the car with blood streaming down my legs. I cleaned out the wounds as best I could using diaper wipes. I tried to ignore the stinging on the drive home. Only after I’d put the little man to bed and the groceries away did I do a thorough job of cleaning and dressing my skinned knees. They are not so pretty now. I doubt I’ll be wearing shorts or shorter skirts for some time now. So what next? Wait…this is my third injury in recent weeks.
incident the first: the car accident
incident the second: the unintentional roundkick
incident the third: skinned knees
So can I be through with injuring myself for a while? Aren’t bad things supposed to come in threes? I do hope this proverb holds true for me.
Disclaimer: I do realize these are minor nuisances, in the grand scheme of things. Compared to most of the planet’s population, our quality of life is incredibly good. And, flesh wounds aside, we’ve got our health. That said…these incidents still do nothing to improve my already sour mood.