It is probably not saying much for yourself when you are so easily defeated by a water bottle. Twice. And two different water bottles. I opened the fridge, searching with a somewhat muddled brain for the cream to go in my
liquid crack blood of life coffee. And out topples a a very cold and very full water bottle, right on the most injured part of my foot. Screaming ensued as the bottle broke open and icy cold water quickly followed the pain and formed a river across my kitchen floor. Scott and Ty stood near me, staring, apparently incapable of fetching a towel. Fun. So, I cleaned it up and reached for a new water bottle to fill and chill before finding it’s daily home in a backpack. I have several that look the same but have different lids, so after finding one that fit, I headed to the sink, not bothering to remove the lid. Holding the opening to the faucet, I began to fill it, no problem. But being me, and being somewhat sleep-deprived AND not having had my coffee yet, I was easily distracted. I forgot to actually pay attention to what I was doing,… until the icy water reached the top and shot out at me in a giant spray. Bangs dripping and wet to the waist, I set the damn thing in the fridge and drank my coffee. Water bottles: 2, Kim: 0.
Did it end there? Of course not. After the bus left, I stood for a few moments, chatting with one of the other moms. As I headed back to my apratment, I managed to catch my flip-flop on, I don’t know, air? And I fell. In a skirt. On the asphalt. In the path of an oncoming garbage truck. With coffee. I did manage neither to break my coffee mug nor spill it, but I am pretty sure that the garbage men now know the color of my lady underpinnings. Fantastic.
It is only 10am. The day is young. Eep.