Oopsy Daisy

I never used to be such a klutz. Probably because you can't get many injuries with your nose stuck in a book during your entire childhood. Unless you try to walk and read at the same time. Which is possible and yes, even enjoyable, by the way.

Anyway, I feel like I've whacked my knees on benches and beds and chairs more times in the last couple months than in my entire life. Why have I suddenly become so uncoordinated?

 I'm sitting here with an almost-healed bruise on my left knee that, about a week and a half ago, was a brilliant purple blob about the size of a chocolate chip cookie. Yesterday, I lumbered into the piano bench with my right knee and we're looking at the beginning stages of a bruise about the size of a quarter. What is my deal?

Thank goodness that there's one good thing about having a bruise: showing it off.

It doesn't matter how many times my sister says she doesn't want to see it; it's obvious she does. When you get a good, impressive bruise, you have to share it with anybody (un)fortunate enough to be near you.

"Hey there." Starts rolling up pant leg... "Take a look at THIS!"

Now, if I only had more glamorous stories to go along with my injuries...hmm...possibly library related?