So, I’m working up this long post about my weekend, including the fun that is hosting a bridal shower without a kitchen sink, the joys of taking the bride out for an evening of dancing only to have her sit there, grumpy, at the table with a glass of water, but something came up.
That something is a fucking hole in my thigh.
See, that kitchen sink (the one that should be in my kitchen) is on a stool in my living room (don’t ask. The mister is seriously in the dog house over this.). This morning I showered, got dressed, and was walking to the dining room to feed the dog. The dog was performing his usual cartwheels at the possibility of getting fed and the little fucker tripped me. Guess what I ran into.
The sharp corner of the kitchen sink.
I now have a hole in my brand new black capris and a hole in my thigh to match.
The good news is that my mom snuck me into her ER and patched me up pretty quickly, so at least I didn’t have the 4 hour wait I would have enjoyed otherwise.