I am the master of ridiculous accidents.
From wrapping my legs around a barstool and then forgetting and standing up to running full-tilt-boogie into clearly visible solid objects, I have spent more than my fair share of time in the emergency room and/or covered in bruises and bandaids of various sizes and shapes.
Yesterday, as I was driving to work, I was fumbling around in my purse for the all-important chapstick when I felt something small and sharp make its way forcefully into my finger.
When I removed my finger from my handbag, an ancient gnome button that a nice old man had given me at the flea market was sticking out of it. I pulled the button out and inspected my finger, which was, seriously, gushing blood. Why doesn't it do that when I prick it for blood sugar tests? The pin part of the button had left a dark, rusty looking area in my finger.
I know for a fact that I have had a tetinus shot in the last ten years...but still, if I die of lockjaw, you'll know why.
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