I am going to keep this post short, because I had to remove my wrist brace to type. I am blogging so soon after suffering traumatic injury (stay tuned for that story) because my good blogger friend Karen Taylor from http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/ honored me with a guest post on her blog today.
I wish to thank Karen and all of her followers that have taken the time to read and comment. I love comments- who knew I would be such an attention seeker? Don't feel bad if you don't comment and merely lurk, because I am forced to admit that I lurk. I lurk a lot!
Some people in the blogging world find lurking (reading or skimming a blog, but not commenting) objectionable, but I read dozens of blogs, numerous news and comedy sites, a magazine or two and usually a book- each day. (I have that kind of time to devote to reading for various reasons- I am single, so there is no man to get in the way and I tend to neglect all of my household duties). So, I don't often comment on blogs. But I am there.
I am there reading, smiling, commiserating, and often laughing right out loud. I am like a Peeping Tom, just watching and enjoying. Oh, wait, that sounds creepy. I mean- I really, really love blogs and enjoy reading them in my pajamas...no..wait, that sounds even worse. Oh, great, now you are going to be like the cute guys that I try to chat up at the grocery- increasingly pale and fidgety. Forget I mentioned it...
To take your mind off the awkward, I will share the series of events that have caused me to wear a wrist brace all week.
It was chilly, so I decided to put on my nice, warm red cable knit sweater and I sprained my wrist doing it.
No, no, I did not fall or get attacked by ninjas or any of the 9,873 other things that would be more probable and believable as the cause of a severely sprained wrist.
I was talking to my daughter (still trying to figure out if she has any liability here) and I pushed my arm down my sleeve and somewhere along the 30-odd inches of the sleeve, my hand bent over toward my palm.
Now, I have attempted to recreate the event in my mind, so I can figure out what I was doing wrong. I can say with certainty that I did not suddenly develop superpowers of speed or strength, so there wasn't excessive forceful thrusting in the sweater.
Nope. Near as I can tell, the couple inches I pushed my bent hand down the sleeve to the armhole was enough to cause serious pain. Lamest injury ever!
At least now, the time I burned all of my finger tips by removing a cake pan out of a 350 degree oven with my bare hands, seems a tiny bit less lame.
I can't say I am looking forward to the inevitable injury that will make this one look less dumb.