Humpty Dumpty

So, a couple of days ago I broke my arm when I slipped and fell in the shower. At least that’s the story I’ve been telling every time someone’s asked ‘OMG what happened to your arm?!’ right before giving my husband the side-eye. Apparently he looks like the wife beating type. Something to do with tattoos I think, I don’t know.

Anyhoodle.

Although this story is true, I did leave a few small details out. Because I firmly believe it’s easier for people to feel sorry for you when they don’t think you’re a complete and utter idiot. And believe me, what happened is a true testimony to how dumb I really am.

Now, before I dive right in, I should give you a little background story about the floor-to-ceiling rack my husband custom built for our bathroom, so I can store all my half empty shampoo bottles, conditioners, shower gels, body lotions and what have you somewhere where Sam won’t knock them over while in the shower (his number 1 pet peeve – bottles flying everywhere because I cram them into too small a space. Guilty).

In theory, this was a lovely idea. However, when Sam was building the thing – all giddy and proud of himself – it seems that he’d temporarily forgotten I am not 6 foot tall, like him. Ergo, I can’t reach the top four shelves. Which, whatever. He can use those, and I use the lower ones, right?

Wrong.

Because every time he cleans the bathroom, my products end up at the very top while his are lower down. So really, when you think of it, what happened is all Sam’s fault.

Now, back to the tragic event.

So, I was in the shower and noticed that my hair was extraordinarily twine-like that day, so I hunted down my conditioner… which happened to be – you guessed it – on the top shelf of our well-intended-poorly-executed rack. Now, instead of doing the sane thing, which would be skipping the conditioner and use one of the billion hair products I could reach instead, I figured I’d simply stand on my tippy toes on the edge of the tub, when both the tub and myself were soaking wet. 

I told you I was an idiot.

Result? I ended up in a position quite similar to this:

pretzel girlOnly with a less ‘zen’ facial expression. And a broken arm.

Now, who still feels sorry for me?

 

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1 Comment

  1. Oh you poor thing, you sound the seem to be in the same class of klutz as my mum. Growing up was certainly entertaining 🙂
    Feel better soon!

    Reply

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