Friday, December 23, 2005

A bump on the head

I hit my head earlier, and now I'm feeling somewhat Republican. So that's how it happens. You hit your head, and suddenly George W. Bush makes sense. Wow. It's all so clear now. USA! USA! Let's go spy!

# # #

In separate incidents, I also hit my left hand and my right shin. I have phases where I run into stuff. It just sort of happens out of nowhere. Dinner table. Bang. Doorway. Ooomph. Bed. Plop. Stairs. Slip.

I did once fall down the basement stairs. I wear these nylon pants, and the pant legs are a little longer than mine. I was walking down, my heel stepped on the pant leg and down I slid. It was sort of fun, actually. It did scare the cats. Well, it scared one of them. The other just sat there staring at me with a "you're an idiot" look on her face.

A totally different episode involved my first cat and the Christmas tree. She liked to climb the tree, and I was told to not let her. One time, she took off for the tree, and I chased her. She went for the tree, I dove to get her, I grasped at her and the tree fell on both of us. She ran away. I had the tree on top of me. This was 12 or 13 (or maybe 14, they all run together) year old Daniel, so I yelled for help. My parents didn't quite know what to make of it, their son trapped under a six-foot tall fake Christmas tree. So it just became yet another reason for them to make fun of me. I do a good job of providing them with such things.

Something I can't figure out is why I used to fall out of my bed so much. It seemed like at least a couple times a year, I would wake up in a panic as gravity did its work. That was always the highlight. Actually, it was something I always dreaded. I'd go to bed at night hoping I wouldn't fall out. Fortunately, it hasn't happened in 11, 12 years.

# # #

OK. While we're on the topic of ways I've hurt myself, let's talk scars because it's my blog, and I can do whatever I want. Four right hand/wrist. One left hand, middle knuckle. One forehead, above my left eye. One left shoulder. One chest. One right shin. One right knee. I'm surprised I don't have more considering how often I fell off my bike when I was little. My brother and I would race around the driveway in a circle. At one of the turns, I would always turn too sharply and go down. There were some nasty cuts in those races.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home