Some people grow up to be super heroes. The rest of us…not so much.
It takes a special kind of stupid to do this to yourself. With a toilet, no less.
So the other night I had what can only be described as a catastrophic bathroom accident.
Don’t worry. It’s not like that. It’s much, much stupider.
Somehow (and yes, a martini was involved), I managed to fall backwards into the wall next to my toilet and hit the toilet flusher thing with my side on the way down. And now I have a big, ugly bruise on my side AND my lower back muscle (on the left) hurts like you wouldn’t believe (but only with certain movements or if I try to sleep on my right side, which makes no sense, but is true nonetheless).
So that’s really all I have to say about that, except that I’m a little behind on finishing up the book (I realized I needed two additional chapters I wasn’t planning on), but it should be done tomorrow (if not this afternoon), and once that occurs I will get down to the business of mocking people who fall in love with inanimate objects. That is if I can make it through the evening without falling down a flight of stairs (again. I did that last May. And about three years before that, also in May), face planting during a run (last July), colliding with the sharp corner of a table, counter, or bed (every other day), or walking into a pole (a few years ago).
You might be reading this thinking “Wow. This woman is an alcoholic. She clearly has a serious problem.” but no, not at all.
In fact, everything listed above (minus the aforementioned backwards fall, henceforth to be known as Toilet Collision 2009) occurred when I was stone cold sober. Not to be confused with Cold Stone ice cream, which I find unbearably sweet.
Happily, I only have these accidents with my own body. I don’t crash cars or bikes or Segways or jet skis or 4-wheelers (the latter two items because I don’t ride them, and Segways because I don’t much fancy looking like an @sshole), so I guess I should be grateful for small blessings. And, as always, if someone asks how I got my terrible torso bruise, I’ll simply tell them: You should see the OTHER guy.
(Although the toilet flusher handle didn’t have the courtesy to break or dent or even get a little jiggly. It was seemingly unfazed by our encounter, unlike my tender flesh.)
