Snarkling Clean

Snarkling Clean- because you don't have to cuss to make fun of stuff. Two dedicated readers discuss romance novels- from what made us weep with joy to what made us want to poke pencils through our eyeballs.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

All this and brains, too

Yesterday while cleaning my house (just shut up!) because we have it for sale and people can come see it at any time, I am shoving the dirty clothes around my master bathroom floor with my foot so I can fully open the door (because my master bathroom? Really tiny. Thong tiny. Smurf tiny. I don't care what my real estate agent says, it's not a master bathroom suite! If it were a suite, would I be selling this house? Would I not spend all my time in there trying to escape my children and husband and the gloriousness that is my life? Hmmm?). Anyway, while concentrating really hard on that task, because apparently, it takes alot of gray matter to be able to send messages to the foot Move dirty clothes while also sending messages to the hand Open the stinkin' door, I forgot to send the message Move skull out of the way.

I cracked my head on the bathroom door. Hard. Ow. Open door + bent head = Waaah!

Now, even though I am not the sharpest sandwich at the picnic, I usually refrain from injuring myself due to abject stupidity. And could I do this by myself? With no audience to observe my brilliance? Nerp. Gotta do it just as my husband is opening up the shower curtain to step out. He reaches for his towel, then THWACK! Gets to see the mother of his children bean herself with a big wooden freakin door that has only been there for, oh, two years, so she should totally know where it is in relation to her head, which has only been on her shoulders for oh, 35 years or so. People, I saw stars. Through my tears. Teary stars. Or starry tears. Whatever. I'm still not thinking straight.

And to add insult to stupidity? It left a mark. I have a red one right at my hairline. A big flaming remind me of my dorkiness owie. And it throbs. Well, only when I breathe. And push on it.

So no matter what the week throws at you, you can take comfort in knowing that you are indeed smarter than some people out there because you haven't tried to coldcock yourself in the head lately.

Unless you have.

Then you would be my new best friend.

8 Comments:

Blogger Robyn said...

Sweetheart, you're already best friends with a woman who has tripped over a malevolent covert air pocket on a public street and stood, bleeding from the scraped knee which also ripped the nylons to shreds, to see the CEO and execs of her company staring at her with horror and pity as they got into their cars to go to their 3 martini lunch.

8:28 PM  
Blogger Bernita said...

Head-bangers R Us.
I do the fridge-freezer door thing.

2:48 AM  
Anonymous Michelle said...

I've whacked my head on the shelf above the laundry sink at least three times.

Hugs on the pain!

3:55 AM  
Anonymous Kaitlin said...

I always whack my head on open cupboard doors. I'm very tall and people will come up while I'm getting something from lower shelves. They open the cabinet but don't shut the door. I stand up and Whack right on the head. Ouch! I'm sorry you got a booboo too, to add insult to injury. :(

3:01 PM  
Blogger quirkychild said...

Ow! Sorry about the hurt!

And since everyone is sharing their banged head stories...Once when I was little I put my face up to the sanctuary doors at church to see if they were done, and someone opened them right into my face.

I ran upstairs to my Mom, crying the whole way in front of everone in church...sooo embarrassing!

5:55 PM  
Blogger OzzatLarge said...

Well if that don't just take the cake. Door and I have a history also. I was in haste to get something from the master suite in our house. I was already frustrated by the fact I couldn't find what I was looking for. Like a bean head, I didn't open the door fully when I entered the suite, and as I was exiting, still looking for the whatchamacallit I looking for in the place, turned in time to hit the half open door with the upper portion of my noggen, just abobe my left brow. So I also had a screaming red owie. And just a hint, if it hurts when you press on it, QUIT PRESSING IT!!!!!!

Ozz at Large

12:34 PM  
Blogger Jessica said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

4:38 PM  
Blogger Jessica said...

It cracks me up that my husband refers to our meager bedroom as a "suite" (I suppose because it has a bathroom?). Don't get the wrong idea, girls, it's very small! Oh, and just because our house is located in a subdivision with the word "estates" in it, doesn't mean it is an ESTATE either.

4:41 PM  

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