Title: Things You Should Not Do to Your Shin Two Days Before Leaving for Another Continent [Some Graphic Images]

Alternate title considered: Why the f*** is this a part of our driveway?!?!


Also considered: Well, if you hadn't waited to take the trash out till 11:30 pm, you wouldn't be in this predicament, now would you?

So, Anne heard voices outside and was kind enough to watch me out to the garage as I took out the trash. Well, I rammed the trash can right into whatever the hell that metal bar is, so I should have known where it was when I turned back around to get the recycling. As many of you know, however, it is actually pretty dark at 1130pm when you don't have a garage light. That is how I rammed my bare shin at full force into The Post of Damnation. Naturally, this caused within me great pain and consternation which my body decided to take care of by crumpling to the ground, where I believe the plan was to lie, whimpering. Again, due to the whole it's-dark-at-1130pm thing, on my way to the crumpling/whimpering stage, I somehow lost track of The Post of Damnation and landed on it with the back of my thigh before successfully achieving the crumpling/whimpering goal which, at this point, had reached a new urgency. I also believe I was surrounded by the recycling I had strewn about my in my fall, but the crumpling/whimpering had become my only concern in life. Anne began tiptoeing around, picking up the recycling, while I collected what was left of my life, my shin, and later the rest of the millions of paper slips on the sidewalk. I limped inside to survey the damage and found this. Bitches.




I proceeded to administer first aid to myself, and, in the process, discovered that the only large band-aids I had were the fake tattoo ones Grace gave me as a gag gift. And the large ones say "MOM" inside a heart. Super classy.

In closing, I would like to say "Rest in Peace" to my dreams of riding more comfortably on the plane ride (nothing like a goose egg on the back of your thigh for airline comfort), looking cute in my leggings (nothing like confusing bystanders as to whether I am waiting to board or looking for triage), or to meeting all the other interns without a large "MOM" bandage covering my shin (this was not a dream I was aware of having, yet, here I am at such a young age finding it snatched from my grasp). Yet, I remain hopeful for a good trip, having learned to watch out for The Posts of Damnation that may lie in wait.