This morning didn’t start out well.
To be fair, I don’t consider any morning to actually ‘start well’ if it involves an alarm clock. So maybe it’s just me, and maybe if I ignore the fact that I didn’t get to have a wee lie-in I might be able to change my mind and at least call it a tie.
No, this morning the alarm was actually the most pleasant part of my morning. Because this morning – before I had my first coffee, before I even got dressed – I injured my hand.
You might be asking ‘so what’ right about now. Statistically, it’s probable that a whole fucking lot of people injured their hand before coffee this morning. People do some dangerous shit in the morning. Shaving, for example. I’m so glad that I’m not a guy and I don’t have to hold a sharp object to my throat every morning, because I wouldn’t have lasted a week after peach fuzz.
Or curling irons? I mean fuck that shit. And if a curling iron isn’t your thing, there’s always a straightening iron. I say a big fat fucking no to both before I’ve had several cups of coffee, run around the block, taken a cold shower, shivered back into bed and slept for another ten hours. Just, no.
Even brushing your teeth can be hazardous if you’re not careful. I have one of those robot-spin-timer-electric toothbrush jobs and one morning I was running late so I held that little spinning death trap in my mouth in the same place for mere seconds to put my hair in a ponytail. I wound up with a lovely sore on my tongue that lasted for days.
I learned the hard way that if you try to multi-task whilst still half-dozy that you’re in for a rough time.
This morning, however, I came to the conclusion that I’m just not good with mornings.
All I was trying to do was pee. Okay, actually that part I managed. But when I went to grab some toilet paper, there was none on the roll. So, I reached out to where I keep the spares, lost my balance and fell off the toilet.
Off. The. Toilet.
And to add injury to insult, I really banged my fucking hand and might have even sprained it a little.
When I fell.
Off the toilet.
Tell me, what is the fucking statistical likelihood of THAT!?
It didn’t really hit me that I’d injured myself that badly until I was at work admiring the decorative shades of mottled blue and purple that the top of my hand was turning. It didn’t really hit me that I might have sprained my hand a little until later this morning when I was having difficulty doing much of anything with my hand that didn’t cause me a fairly substantial amount of pain.
Even typing this is causing me to wince. But seriously, like I’d not blog about something like that?? When life sends you sailing off the john, the only way to really laugh about it is to tell other people and laugh with them as they laugh their asses off at you.
So new rule.
When one of the first things you do in the morning is injure your hand falling off the toilet?
You fucking go back to bed.