Yesterday was one of those days I should have never gotten out of bed.
I burned my left index finger on the stove while checking to see if the back pilot light had gone out in addition to the front one. It hadn't. Later, I managed to melt an entire tube of chapstick all over a load of laundry in the dryer. And finally, last night while at Ben and Susan's, I tried my hand (hah!) at "knife-catching" when Susan dumped the knife block off the counter. Not to mention the three or four times I bumped my head on the 1. refrigerator door, 2. the car door, 3. the dryer door, and 4. the shower stall door.
Not five minutes after we walked in the door last night, I was bleeding. The glass of wine Ben brought me while I was bandaging myself helped to somewhat assuage the disgust I felt as a result of my clumsiness.
Once the drinking commenced, however, I forgot all about the pain. At least I can still type now. Haven't tried playing piano yet. Let's hope I'm functional in that arena still, too. If not, what would I say to the church congregation tomorrow morning when I'm fumbling around on the organ? Luckily the pastor is on vacation so I'll have minimal explaining to do. Sheesh.
Why am I smiling??? That's Susan trying to help me re-enact my knife-catching stint. Note my bowling fingers which are bandaged. Appropriate for our viewing of The Big Lebowski. And I hadn't had anything to drink yet at this point, but a few sips of wine. I'm such a mess.