Posted tagged ‘Injury’

“Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week”

May 20, 2012

Yesterday was a Kathleen day, one fraught with danger, mishaps and bodily injury. My back was bad so it took me forever to haul in my purchases from the plant sale. I grabbed the fence post for support while I opened the gate and got a splinter in my thumb. It was a small one but digging it out hurt nonetheless. I banged my wrist on the table edge and got a huge bruise which is still there but the swelling has gone down. That’s a good thing. I hit the top of my head twice on the same cabinet. The first time was happenstance while the second time was stupidity. I have my baskets on a rod from the ceiling in the dining room, each basket having its own arm. I was adding a basket which meant rearranging, and I hit the basket with the lavender stalks and knocked the stalks to the floor. They fell and, being dried, tiny blossoms were all over the place. It took a while to sweep those up. Cody, Gracie’s friend, came to visit and his tail swished across my succulent garden and dirt was spread over the floor. I cleaned that up too. The last straw was when the cabinet door where the kitchen trash basket is came off in my hand. It seems the screw holes have gotten too big for the screws. I immediately shut the door as well as I could, dragged myself upstairs and took a nap.

Last night, wary of moving too much, I stayed on the couch. I am always an accident waiting to happen so I figured the couch was a safe refuge from the plight of every day living. It was and I had the pleasure of an easy night and a Red Sox win.

Today is another beautiful day, and it is already 68°. The dog has been outside all morning, and a while ago she was resting on the lounge in the sun. I think we’ll be fighting for that spot later in the afternoon.

Enjoy your Sunday.

“Accidents will happen in the best regulated families.”

November 5, 2010

It rained all night, but it was so warm I left the window opened in my bedroom. Today is dreary. The leaves hanging over the deck are mostly brown now and are barely clinging to the branches. The deck is covered in leaves and pine needles. It looks deserted. I miss my deck.

I haven’t heard from my computer man. That is not a good sign.

Rainy days make me want to curl up on the couch with a good book and read the day away, but I have a few errands, nothing big, and a few house chores, also not so big. I grouse a bit but don’t really mind getting dressed and going out because I get to ride around in my new car. The old car is in the driveway and still hasn’t been cleared out, but I’m hoping tomorrow will be a nicer day.

I have broken three bones in my life. One was my wrist when I was around four. It broke when I was jumping off the fence backwards and braced myself on the ground. The judges would have taken off points for a bad landing, but I was quite proud of that cast. The next was my cheekbone broken one early morning when I fell down the stairs. It was the least of my injuries. I don’t remember falling. I cleaned up, changed, called my friend to tell her about my injury then went back to bed. I have no memory of any of  the rest of that either. The last was a fractured shoulder when I fell off the ladder while I was window washing. I also don’t remember that. I just remember waking up in the lemon verbena and going inside to use one arm to finish the window. My sisters claim that all these injuries just prove I’m my father’s daughter, but I disagreed in part. His injuries came from every day sorts of mishaps: the sawing himself out of the tree, catching his thumb with his fishing hook, slightly electrifying himself while putting up lights and cutting his fingers on a fan blade. Mine are a bit more dramatic and happen far less often. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

Yesterday I caught my finger with a staple while I was putting up my inside Thanksgiving lights. It was most decidedly something my father would have done.

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