How the f*%! does this thing work?
This morning, before leaving for a methotrexate injection, which I can only assume had me highly discombobulated: "What did you bump into this morning?" "Oh, I closed the bedroom door on my own head." "I heard you whimpering afterwards." "Did you hear that it was BOOM-boom?" "Yes, actually." "That was the door slamming into my head and then my shoulder going oomph against the jamb."
"You might want to keep that between us." BRILLIANT! Shortly after this incident, I turned on the stove to heat water for coffee and put bread in the toaster. I was keenly aware of my access to fire, knives, and electricity, and I was not reassured. My trip to chemoland should go fine this morning as long as there is nothing too complicated, you know, like doors on hinges.
Photo credit: by angrysalad on flickr (click on photo for more of this artist's work). Permission obtained for use.