First let me apologize for the craptastic cell phone self-portrait. Also, I should apologize for making you look up my rather large nostril. I wish I’d taken a better photo. I wish I had better lighting. I wish…well you know…wish in one hand and poop in the other. Anyway, you’re missing the point. What’s that you say? You have no idea what my point is? I’m OK with that…happens to me often.
Last Saturday, I had an “incident”. I wasn’t going to share it, but every time it’s brought up in my house or within my inner circles, I laugh…they laugh. It’s all at my expense mind you, but it’s all good since we’re all laughing.
That face up there is bruised and beaten. It’s hard to tell from the photo. My lip was scuffed up as if I’d been thrown from a car and hit the pavement. And the bruise inside was hideous. That knot on my cheek was also scuffed and very bruised. My eye was pretty much black. I guess I shouldn’t have hidden under makeup for the photo so that you could get the full effect but I can’t change that now. Take my word for it, or ask B, it was bad.
So…how did this happen? Was I in some car wreck? Was I in a fight? Was I attacked by a wild animal? I almost wish any of the above were true because the truth is just embarrassing.
Let me explain: I typically go to bed around 2:00 am. Before I go to bed, I pee. If you follow along at all, you know I do that often. And I get up at 6:00 am with the girls to get them off to school. That has been my schedule all year. I decided to change it up and start going to bed around midnight. So Saturday night, I woke up at about 3:00 am to pee because that’s what I do. I’m not very familiar with the new place yet and I’m a sleep walker (have been my entire life). It usually takes me about 3 months to acclimate to a new place. I hate the dark, as in I’m as scared as a little kid of it, and there was no night light in the bathroom. I closed the bathroom door and didn’t turn on the light. Don’t know what I was thinking. I was still totally asleep and when I was done peeing, I couldn’t find my way out (I’m directionally challenged). I started to panic. I’m claustrophobic too. Alone and scared in the dark in a confined space that I’m unfamiliar with, I started running around to find the light (yes running). And I ended up running…face first…in to the wall…right by the light switch I might add. Our walls are textured. It wasn’t pretty. And neither was I once the wall had its way with me.
I’m not proud of this moment but I’ve learned my lesson. I do have a nightlight now. I’ve learned where the light switch is. And my face is healing (although I’m fairly certain my lip is scarred…really that photo does not do that scrape justice...ask B). I’m even OK with the laughter at my expense at this point (hey…I’d totally laugh too if it wasn’t me…I actually laughed and it was me).
Moral of the story? There has to be a moral. Think scar face, think! Yes, that’s it. The moral of the story is: Never run in a dark, unfamiliar bathroom at 3:00 am. The exercise is not worth the damage that will occur when the textured wall meets your face. Class dismissed!