Sorry for the bitch-fest lately. I’ll try to do better. So even though I’m sick today, I’m not going to whine about it. Instead, I’ll tell you an amusing story.
Hubby is notoriously clumsy. He’s all long limbs and elbows, constantly bumping into things. So, of course, he’s accident-prone. He twisted his ankle playing laser tag at our joint bachelor/bachelorette party. I carried him out of there on my back (okay, I carried him about four feet–the man is 6′ 3″).
It was actually a re-injury. He had initially hurt himself playing soccer. He was the goalkeeper on his team because no one else wanted balls flying at their face. At some point, in his efforts to save a goal, he made a quick turn–too quick, apparently.
But that’s not even his worst soccer injury. There was a game that, for whatever reason, I didn’t attend. Hubby came home with band-aids holding his glasses together. I was on the phone with my sister when he came in and just said “I’m gonna have to call you back,” and hung up. When I took a closer look, he had cuts on his nose and eyebrow, too.
Me: Honey, what happened? Are you okay?
Hubby: I had a little accident.
Hubby: The funny thing is, I wasn’t even playing goalie when it happened.
Me: Hilarious. Seriously, what happened?
What had happened was that Hubby wanted to score a goal (or so I assume), and he was able to talk someone else into playing goalkeeper for a few minutes. Not two minutes into being on the field, someone kicked the ball–from about a yard away–straight into Hubby’s face. And they were worried about him playing goalie. His glasses broke on impact, cutting his face.
You would think someone on a soccer team would have tape, but that was not the case, so his glasses and his face were temporarily held together with band-aids.
Fast forward to last week. It had been a couple of years since any major injuries, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when Hubby came home from a bike ride saying, “Oh, Honey. I had an accident.” His arms and legs were bleeding, and he was complaining of a sore wrist.
Note to self (and anyone reading this): Do not attempt to clean your glasses while making a right-hand turn on a bicycle.
He was scraped up pretty badly, but nothing that required stitches. We got him cleaned up, removed what we could of the black road-burn, and patched him up with some industrial-sized bandages.
Now he’s all scabby and will probably have some (more) scars. But he’s in one piece.
I call Hubby the clumsy one, but the truth is neither of us is exactly graceful. I really hope poise skips a generation.