So I was cleaning the bedroom today, the weightbench part. I was picking up Dan's various work hats and puting them back on the hook when one fell. To grab it, I reached fast, smashing my elboe off the resty thing for the bar causing me to curl my arm in pain and drop the handful of hangers I was holding. In midsentence, Dan yells out "What happened?! Robyn? Are you OK? What did you do??" I couldn't even talk, I had funny-boned myself so bad on this thing. So I kind of pointed (I hit my elbow off the stupid thing all the time anyway) and he says "you hurt yourself so often, I feel so bad" Awww. He insisted on dragging me to the kitchen for a ziplock bag of ice while I protested (not without tears) "don't, I'm fine. It'll be alright, I don't need ice" but he wouldn't let me get away with it and told me to go relax. I sat on the bed with my elbow propped on the ice because it couldn't stand the weight of holding up my arm. I took the ice off for a second and looked at it (I always do that: look at things) and noticed a blood spot and promptly yelled to Dan that I was bleeding and he came running to check it out. He put Polysporin on my cut, but I had to spread it because he wouldn't touch the blood, and put the bandaid on. I had sliced my elbow open. Not very much, but enough to bleed. I checked the weightbench after: the part where I always bang my elbow is slightly rounded, not sharp at all. At least, not to my fingers. Apparently the soft tissue hiding oh-so-important-and-debilitating elbow nerves cuts easily. It was really hard to make the bed predominantly left-handed and I kept flicking the sheets, making my elbow SEAR.
Forward to 9.30
Still sore, but I can type, which was impossible for the last few hours. I took the bandaid off to inspect. Turns out I have a cut, a rub (that spotty blood stuff under your skin), and a purple goosegg to highlight it all. *sigh*
I get all the breaks, I swear.