If you have been a reader for long, it will absolutely come as no surprise to you for me to tell that I always fall into the 1% category when it comes to getting hurt in the silliest of ways.

Years ago, I almost broke both my ankles by taking a highly un-entertaining, and super speed ride on my twins’ sit-and-spin toys while chasing a cat through the house. Now, did I mean to do that? Nope. No one told me two sit and spins in one room covered by a blanket would mean 10 weeks without being able to pee without excruciating trips to and from the bathroom. Or that the crutches themselves I was trusting my balance to would end up causing me to fall into things and down stairs.

Really, it was not the greatest of moments.

And then a year later when washing by hand caused the glass canning jar to break and take out my writing hand (remember I once was a piano teacher too, lol), I sighed, and pecked the story out with my left hand on the keyboard.

But really, its just about anything that can cause bodily harm I guess.

The stairs like to grab me once in a while and roll me down for fun.

The floor will reach up and kiss me, just because it misses me.

Table legs and chair legs often try to wrestle with toes, and the hitch on the back of the van makes sure it gets my attention once in a while.

In reality, I am a walking accident just waiting to happen, and I should invest in a bubble wrap company.

I made the mistake last week though and totally set myself up for it. While in the emergency room with one of my twins who had pulled a muscle in her back while jumping on the trampoline, I casually observed to the Handy Hubby: “This whole thing is making me nervous. Do you realize I am the only one out of the six of us that has not been in here since we moved here in February?”

And with that, the little evil minions of fate decided it was time my number came up.

I should have gotten a clue when every box that showed up at my door was overflowing with bubble wrap. I should have taken the hint, really. I should have just called up the bubble wrap company and asked for their biggest roll.

Because then Tuesday rolled around.

Who knew making homemade tortillas could end so badly? Such a dangerous life I lead.

One second my antique weighted rolling pin is resting on the newest freshest most delicious tortilla about to be baked…and the next it was breaking my toes in a smashing, brilliant move of total gore.

I know, its sad, isn’t it.

And I never got to eat the tortillas.

But after three hours in an emergency room wanting to claw my way up the wall to get away from the pain, I knew it was broken, and I knew the visit would not end well.

It didn’t.

However, this time, I convinced them to leave me off crutches by snagging one tip on the floor and crashing into the drinking fountain, so, hopefully that’s a good ending. 😀 I find it very convenient that it is always big hulky young guys that teach PT. Probably because middle aged clumsy ladies like me are always the ones needing their help. *wink*

Hope you all have a far  less exciting weekend and see you next week!

Blessings to you and yours,

~Heather <3