I think I should make a scrapbook of the many injuries I sustain from clumsy, and slightly erratic behavior.
This weekend involves painful cuts on the palms of my hands when I caught a long neck turtle in the river and the bastard scratched me with his feet. Cuts on my feet from walking on the rocks barefoot at the same river since I forgot my sandals.
Oh yea and I just walked into the corner of my bed, but I do that all the time.
Last weekend was the rolled ankle from falling in a ditch, huge nasty bruises from the esky getting in my way, grazes on my back when I went flying out of the water slide and slid across the concrete.
Its really not a normal day if I don't hurt myself somehow.
A simple game of volleyball turns evil when John slices my lip with his girly nails. A simple "lets ride down the rapids with nothing but a few lilos" suddenly shines through as the stupid plan it always was when I am wrenched over a waterfall banging every part of my body so hard I am black & blue, A motorbike ride where I fly over the handles cracking my collar and landing with the bike on my ankle which sports a beautiful black lump for weeks.
If there is a ditch, I'll probably fall in it. A table, I'll likely run into it. Some kind of animal, it will probably bite me.
Still doesn't stop me from trying.