On Saturday I got into a fight. I admit that I made the first move, but then I got slapped, hard, and I didn't like that at all. It got me right in the nose, and took off a big chunk of skin, and I bled all over my nice clean face.
It just goes to show. You should never muck around with a cupboard door.
For the record, I was the one opening the cupboard door. I was reaching up to take out a glass and leaned in just a little bit too close and WHAM. The damn thing swiped off the side of my nose. I felt the impact, but my nose immediately went numb, so I had no idea if there was any damage. I was too frightened to go and look in the mirror (I'm not scared of blood, but I am scared of gaping holes in my face) so I ventured out into the living room. "Um... have I hurt myself?" I asked my husband.
His face said a thousand words, all of them starting with "AAAGGGGHHH!"
"AAAGGGGHHH!" he said.
"So that's a yes?"
He directed me to the bathroom where I noticed a sizeable piece of skin flapping in the breeze, as blood trickled down to my chin. It wasn't pretty, but it was strangely fascinating.
"Stop looking in the mirror and get down to the doctor's!" my husband commanded. Ah... doctor shmoctor. I couldn't be bothered, and besides, I had five boys turning up in 30 minutes for a slumber party. I didn't have time for facial surgery.
"I'll call Karen," I told him. Karen is my doctor friend and is delighted to take calls from me at all hours of the day and night to dispense medical advice. Or at least, that's what I tell myself when I call her at all hours of the day and night. I can't see why she'd have a problem with it. I mean, if she needed blogging advice I'd be very happy to give it. Of course, she doesn't actually have a blog, but that is completely beside the point.
Karen told me to gently ice the wound, stick the skin down, and get some steri-strips from the pharmacist to help the healing. I followed her advice to the letter, especially the bit about getting black jelly beans from the pharmacist to help with the trauma. (Karen may not have specifically advised that, but I know it was what she was thinking.)
So since Saturday afternoon, I have sported a bandaged nose with dried blood peeping out from around the edges. It's a very fashion-forward look, and I would recommend it to all who want to stand out from the crowd this winter. It's also done wonders for my husband's reputation, as the general consensus from friends and family that smacking oneself in the face with a cupboard door is utterly preposterous, which means that someone must have hit me. And, the only people in the house at the time were my husband and Boo - and Boo was sleeping - clearly he must have done it.
Now, it's not nice for people to think that my husband is a wife beater. However, it's even less nice for people to think that I'm a self-slapping moron. So yes, my husband did it. Bad, bad man.
Oh, and for the record, we were going to put the cupboard door down - after all, there's every chance it could strike again - but the cupboard looks pretty silly without it. So we've put it in the naughty corner. Conveniently, this is located in the back of the kitchen, right where the cupboard lives. It will stay there till it's learned its lesson.
Or until I work out how to open it without smacking myself in the face. May be a very long time.
