Anyone who knows me at all, knows that I am an extremely clumsy person.
I fall UP stairs. I trip over my own feet. I slip on dry pavement. I need stitches after a papercut... well you get the point.
Yesterday I decided would be a good day to clean my house. Getting ready for Christmas, running errands, doing laundry, blah blah blah. And I hate cleaning. I take one look at the accumulated dust and destritus of our daily lives and would rather join the Polar Bear Club and take an icy dip in Lake Erie than slog through the piles of dirty clothes, cat hair and dishes that I let pile up while I am running around all week long.
But you can't put cleaning off forever, or you will end up like one of those hoarders, dead underneath a pile of junk mail and potato chip bags after they have all risen up to attack you because you didn't take the time to recycle them.
So off I go to sweep and mop and wash and scrub. And as with anything else in my life, I can't do just one thing at a time. I have to simultaneously try and get it all done at once while at the same time running to fourteen stores in search of the final ingredient for my breakfast casserole and taking 15 minute breaks to wrap presents that I forgot I even bought.
Anyway, the litter box for the cat is in my downstairs bathroom and yesterday afternoon, I decided to clean the entire room from top to bottom. Since it's a half bath, it's pretty small at the toilet is up against the closet. So while trying to scrub around the base of it, my legs suddenly decide that they are going to give up the fight against gravity and no longer support me. For no definable reason whatsoever. At all. Once they fold up like an accordion, I face plant directly into the toilet paper holder.
Needless to say, I ended up with a dent right in the middle of my forehead. After I deduce - I use my genius to look into the mirror - that I am not bleeding, I shrug off my latest klutz mishap and go back to cleaning. Of course what I don't realize is that just because it didn't bleed, doesn't mean that there is no damage done. So a few minutes later, I realize that I have a throbbing headache and take another peak in the mirror. Stupid mirror. You know what is shows me? A nice fat, freaking goose egg on my head. Great! Just what I need. Another bump on my head and potential concussion. I am fairly certain that yesterday was number 14.
Anywhoodle. I make it through the rest of the day without errupting into another fit of seizures, but when I woke up this morning, I still have the lump and now I have a cold. I am now convinced of two things:
1. Cleaning is really dangerous and I shall henceforth stop doing it and take my chances with zombie advretisements waiting to murder me in my sleep
2. Clorox has some sort of reverse effect on my immune system and causes bronchitis