1. Today, my face exploded.
Not my entire face. Just a small part. Wait, maybe I should back up.
A new piece of furniture arrived at the Stiefvater Hacienda (spoiler: it is shelves. Whenever I buy new furniture, it is something designed to hold books) and Lover called for me to help carry it. I roused myself from editing and agreeably took one end. I had only made it a few steps when I thought to myself, a little dispirited:I believe I am about to die.
Now, I have pretty beefy arm muscles and we'd only been a few feet, so I was rather ashamed of myself. But I really did feel the old scythe coming down, heave ho, off with your head and all that. So I sat down in my office and put my head between my legs and discovered that I had in fact busted a vein in my temple.
So there is that.
2. Three days ago, I rebroke my pinky toe, the one I broke last summer. I'm telling you this now to cheer you up after the whole vein-busting story. I was tearing around my house barefoot, not a care in the world, and then I tripped.
Ask me what I tripped over.
My new steel-toed boots. I took ibuprofen for the swelling, but they don't make a medication for irony.
3. Nine days ago, I did this:
for two days solid. We hit several snow banks, flattened two tires, and generally traveled exceptionally fast on very little sleep.
I injured nothing.
I'm telling you this because I want to impart an important lesson: life is safer with a roll cage.