Killer Spaghetti
I suppose I can't call it "my day" if I haven't done anything that would do down in (my) history.
For the previous years it would undoubtedly be the never-ending 3 to 4-steps fall off the stairs -- mostly on my butt. An annual event; don't ask. Last year, I was lucky. Or, as lucky as I could be. I didn't fall off any flight of stairs. I just accidentally cut myself with my mini-blade. I didn't even notice the cut until I saw huge amounts of blood trickling down my hands. I blame the darkness of the night and my sort of inability to feel pain. But I didn't have to get stitches for it so it was okay. Really!
What exactly did I do?
Oh, I dropped a small bowl of spaghetti sauce to the floor. It doesn't sound so bad, right? But I think you're missing the key point here.
It wasn't just your normal sauce all over the floor mess. It was a nightmare! There was sauce all over the floor, the chair/s, the table cloth, the wall, THE CEILING. Imagine slasher horror films blood fest. Yeah, that. If I wasn't so…concerned that my dad will get mad at what happened, I would have taken a picture of it. Even my mom admitted that the whole thing was pretty funny. She said that after we managed to clean everything up. It took a long time though. Stupid small bowl of sauce.