My new life as a non-crippled person, circa about two months ago, has not gotten off to an auspicious start.
I banged up my car AGAIN on my vicious, noxious, sadistic, satanic garage wall (yes, I do really believe it is a living thing. Unfortunately for me, it doesn’t have a SOUL or a CONSCIENCE.) Pulled the shower head out of the wall and broke it. Decided to poach an egg in the microwave and after taking it out and pricking it with a fork, watched it explode all over the kitchen - weeks later, I am still retrieving egg fragments in odd places. Broke the zipper on my beloved jean purse, which is beyond repair. Broke the zipper on my jeans – the last pair that I could comfortably pull up over my knees. Smashed my finger when the washing machine lid fell on it. Woke up one morning to find 36 new pimples on my face, several nearly as large as my head. (Apparently, I am a teenager again.) To date, 27 of them still call my face home. Lost my keys, lost my glasses, lost my ring, lost my sanity. Found my keys, found my glasses, am still lamenting loss of said ring and have given up on ever retrieving my sanity.
The husband would like to think these events happened because he was out of town.