It’s hard for me to blog coherently on a good day. I digress, forget my point, digress some more, and sometimes, eventually, return to what I started with. My usual semi-coherency becomes more difficult with an echoing headache, like the one I have now. Which… I got by mildly concussing myself during an ice hockey game Saturday night. My doctor strongly suggested that I hold off from playing ice hockey until next week, which is sensible, but a bummer, because sometimes, after a day with a kindergartner who is getting the hang of 20 Questions (Does it have fur? No. Does it have legs? Yes. Does it live in the wild in the United States? Yes. Does it have scales? No. Does it breathe air? Yes. Does it have feathers? No. Hmm. What is it, honey? A giraffe. You know, giraffes have fur and live in the savannah. In Africa. Oh. They have fur? I thought it was hair.), hockey can be appealing for many reasons. But, since I rather foolishly (and accidentally) collided with another player on Saturday night while going at full speed, and then landed on my head, I’m out for a little bit. I wish, sometimes, I was a little smarter.
Obviously, concussing myself probably isn’t the best way to get there.
It’s also getting a little embarrassing to go to my doctor’s office. The nurses all give me a look that says: what did you do now? I think they’re going to nominate me for a Darwin award. And I didn’t tell them about getting stung by a bee, inside, while doing laundry. Or that I scalded myself. I love me a shiny award, but… not that one. Please.