Does the other guy look any worse? My head hurts. My nose hurts. My face hurts.
Was I in a bar fight? Was I in a bar? I don't recall being the fighting type.
Running away like a scared little chicken, that's more my style. Oh man, do I ever ache.
Then I remembered. It all started coming back to me. The pot lid that hit me on the bridge of my nose.
Silly me. Last night I was cleaning up the motorhome. Somehow in my grief, housekeeping has slid. Puppy doesn't care. He tracks in dirt, or slides down the aisle, scrunching up the throw rugs, in hot pursuit of one of his toys. He is happy whether the home is a wreck or nicely cleaned and organized.
As long as his tiny food and water dishes are clean and filled, he's easy to get along with.
I can't reach the upper cabinets very well. I have a handy dandy little stool for that, but I was in a hurry, not taking time to slide the stool over,from its assigned corner in the tiny kitchen, because the wrinkled floor mat was in the way. The rubber on my throw rugs isn't gripping like it used to. Puppy dog and I had been playing "toss the teddy bear." It's a strange little game. I throw the teddy bear to the other end of the motorhome. Puppy runs after it, then plays keep-away, until I snatch it back, tossing teddy bear off again. I didn't care he was running with such enthusiasm, he was messing up the rugs. In between toss-the-teddy-bear, I was alternately putting things away, organizing life again. I was opening up the top cabinet over the refrigerator to shove in a washed wok. A big lid slid out of nowhere, thwacking me right smack on the bridge of the nose.
I saw stars! I heard train whistles!
But wait, I'm parked near the railroad tracks.
Oh my gosh, did it ever hurt. It hurt so bad I couldn't even scream. But I did manage to utter one unprintable word. Shame on me. Puppy scrambled for my bed, dragging his teddy bear with him, then looking at me quizzically with his goofy one-ear-up, one-ear-down.
So, that is why this morning I woke up with black and blue eyes. Oh boy. *SIGH* This can't be good.
Normally I don't have the throw rugs out, it depends on the weather. When it's cold, I put them out, when it's warm, I clean them, roll them up, storing them in the basement of the motorhome.
It's been cold one day, warm the next. Some nights downright cold. My blood is thickening up. Last year my teeth chattered whenever the temperature dropped below 69F degrees. This year, I am surviving much cooler temperatures.
I wonder how long these black and blue eyes will last?
|Puppy commandeers the afghan, on this cold morning.|
One ear up, one ear down.
He looks at me strangely.
Who is that mermaid with the big black and blue eyes?
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