Bang!
I've spent most of my free minutes over the last week getting my house clean, and I love the results. I love the smell. I love being able to run across the wood floor in my socks and slide a full ten feet before coming to a halt.
So it should have come as no surprise to me on Friday morning when I rounded a corner and couldn't stop until I banged my face into the woodwork.
My thoughts went, roughly, thus:
So it should have come as no surprise to me on Friday morning when I rounded a corner and couldn't stop until I banged my face into the woodwork.
My thoughts went, roughly, thus:
- Ouch!
- Sh!t!
- Oh, great, now I'm going to get a black eye and everyone will assume I'm a battered woman.
- I should put some ice on this.
So I iced it, and for the record, I didn't get a black eye, just a little bruise underneath my eyebrow. It looks as though I made an ill-advised choice of eye shadow, used it on my left eye, then came to my senses before doing my right.