Band Name Alert: Damage Waiver

Three things.

1. Today, my face exploded.

Not my entire face. Just a small part. Wait, maybe I should back up.

A new piece of furniture arrived at the Stiefvater Hacienda (spoiler: it is shelves. Whenever I buy new furniture, it is something designed to hold books) and Lover called for me to help carry it. I roused myself from editing and agreeably took one end. I had only made it a few steps when I thought to myself, a little dispirited:I believe I am about to die.

Now, I have pretty beefy arm muscles and we'd only been a few feet, so I was rather ashamed of myself. But I really did feel the old scythe coming down, heave ho, off with your head and all that. So I sat down in my office and put my head between my legs and discovered that I had in fact busted a vein in my temple.

So there is that.


2. Three days ago, I rebroke my pinky toe, the one I broke last summer. I'm telling you this now to cheer you up after the whole vein-busting story. I was tearing around my house barefoot, not a care in the world, and then I tripped.

Go ahead.

Ask me what I tripped over.


My new steel-toed boots. I took ibuprofen for the swelling, but they don't make a medication for irony.

3. Nine days ago, I did this:


to this:



for two days solid. We hit several snow banks, flattened two tires, and generally traveled exceptionally fast on very little sleep.

I injured nothing.

 

I'm telling you this because I want to impart an important lesson: life is safer with a roll cage.