good grief

Sunday was one of those days, the one where I hurt myself quite a bit. I really don’t mean to, but for some reason Sunday was a klutzy day.

It started at my friend Christy’s new house. The roommates and I decided to keep her company on her first night sleeping there. Sunday morning, Christy and I were carrying the spare mattress I had slept on upstairs to the storage room when I bashed my left shoulder on a very pointy banister.

After returning home to get ready for church while doing my hair I burnt my finger on my flat iron (or hot styling tool for the person I told this story to who didn’t know what a flat iron is).

The next hurt me moment came as we were driving to church. I was eating an apple and bit the inside of my lip not just once, but three times.

For the grand finale, I was getting ready to go to my parent’s house for dinner when I heard Christy come to the door. I had left my shirt at her house and she was returning it. I was excited to see her and tell her thanks so I quickly put on my heels, grabbed my purse and rushed down the stairs. I made it down to the first landing just fine, but as I rounded the corner I lost my footing, scrambled to catch myself, and slid down the rest of the stairs in an awkward position while watching the looks of terror on my friends’ faces. As I came to rest at the bottom I burst out laughing. It was the only thing to do because I wasn’t hurt at all, well except for the bruise that showed up on my arm the next day.