More Slapstick Comedy

It is very hard to type this story. That's because I have scrapes and contusions on the fingertips of my left hand, and a sprained right hand. Yes, I have had another little spill while walking the dog. This time I was walking with the nice German lady from down the block, and her dog Dandy (only a German would name their dog Dandy). As both her dog and Chandler pulled off into someone's yard to poop, I stepped off of the pavement, twisting my ankle, and crashing head first into the lawn. This time I think I actually blacked out for a few seconds after my skull struck the grass, because I opened my eyes and there was Chandler's big old nose in my face, and the nice lady was holding both leashes, screaming "OH- mein Gott!!".

It's always funny when someone who doesn't know of my history of twisted ankles, and sprawling pratfalls, experiences it for the first time. They are always quick to run over and try to help, yet I know that there is only one thing to do, just lay there like a slug for about a minute and do a quick inventory of all my limbs. This time, in addition to the twisted ankle, I have skinned both knees, sprained the right hand, and of course skinned the aforementioned fingertips, never mind the bump on the head. I know it is just a matter of time before I break something, after all, I'm not getting any younger. Just older and more and more brittle. The sad thing was that I did this just a couple of hours before bowling, and almost nothing will get me to miss that. So, after pondering whether or not to take a couple of the Oxycodone left over from my foot surgery, I decided to just take three Excedrin, and three vodkas. That did the trick, and I actually bowled better than the week before. The problem is that when I woke up this morning, the pain was unbelievable. My right hand, the one I bowl with, felt like it had been hit with a mallet, and the scabs on my finger tips were only temporarily masking the raw wounds on my left hand. Thank goodness, I still have those Oxies in the drawer.

Ouch, ouch, ouch, goddammit, Ouch !!

Well, I've done it again. Due to my blindness (I have lost %50 of my eyesight due to glaucoma), I have severely injured myself. It wouldn't be so bad if it were some kind of injury involving manly pursuits, but no, I was simply drinking a glass of Metamucil. First of all let me tell you that drinking Metamucil is like drinking Kool-Aid with dirt in it, and sometimes that dirt gets clumped up at the bottom of the glass. This is how a clump of that dirt caused me to have a bloody injury. In my attempt to knock loose the clump, I gave the glass a little tap at the bottom while it was tilted up, towards my mouth. This worked fine, and the clump, along with the rest of the liquid came rushing forward and into my face, causing me to lurch forward and slam the glass into the cabinet that I had judged to be farther away from me. Slamming the glass into the cabinet caused it to jam into the bridge of my nose, which caused me to start screaming in pain, swearing, and dancing around the kitchen, spewing blood and Metamucil everywhere.Once everything calmed down and Mark had bandaged me up, I let Chandler know that he had done nothing wrong, and he came out from behind the bed. Then I cleaned up the blood and Metamucil, which by this time had turned into a slimy goo. Finally I returned to the task at hand. I drank another glass of the nasty stuff, but this time I checked all sight distances, put on my safety glasses, and used my sippy cup.