Around 5am this morning, I was awakened by one of my children in need of a change of garments and sleeping venue. To prevent embarrassment, the child in question will remain nameless due to the nature of the early morning rendezvous. As the loving mother that I am, I dutifully showered and changed said offspring, threw the offended bedding into the washing machine, and tucked the small one into a hastily assembled ‘hollywood’. (A ‘hollywood’ is a pallet on the floor. Refer to my little brother, Dylan, for explanation.)
The floor in my room, to the chagrin of my husband, is rarely as tidy as it should be. Due to this prolonged lapse in housekeeping, I usually turn on my bedside lamp before putting out the rest of the lights when going to bed so as not to injure myself at the end of each day. In a rare, and as it turns out, unfortunate occurrence, the path to bed was clear, causing me to forego the typical illumination progression. I turned out the lights before heading back to sleep, congratulating myself on the uncharacteristic cleanliness of my environs, knowing I would stumble over nothing on my way.
I made it without incident to the bed where a sharp crack, blinding pain, and stars in my vision elicited an involuntary scream. To which Jim responded by sitting up quite violently and yelling, having been rudely torn from a deep sleep. Cue the silent weeping. The kind where tears stream uncontrollably down your face…
Had I turned on my lamp before canning the bathroom and hallway lights, and dragging myself back to my bed, I would have seen that my husband was sleeping on his back with his feet flat on the bed, with his knees in the air. And I could have avoided finding his left knee with my face. Directly in the nose. At 5am in the morning. After doing a load of laundry and showering a young child. At 5am in the morning.
Possessing the appendage which inflicted my acute agony, Jim ferreted out an ice pack for my throbbing schnoz. I fell asleep holding it to my nose.
I have 2 black eyes.
And my nose is deepening its lovely purple hue by the hour.
This is my only salvation.
The moral of the story is that cleaning your room is bad for your health.
Yup. That’s what I’m going with.
My room was clean and now I look like I got punched in the face.