For those that know me rather well this should not come as a surprise. I am a klutz and there has been plenty of kidding about it over the years. The fact that Spillar is my last name has added to the humor. I do have to say that I do think it's rather funny myself and have many a good story to tell over a glass of wine about my many miss-stepped adventures.
So here is my latest story...On Sunday after a fantastic workout, I decided it was time to do some deep cleaning in my kitchen. I didn't even change out of my work out gear. I started on the stove and scrubbed for awhile and felt that there was a spot that need to soak for just a bit before I tried to tackle it again. This is where my first mistake started, I left the oven door open. Things were going great and I started on the fridge. Well, that went rather well and was happy to find my missing jar of capers in the process. After checking the clock I realized that I better start on lunch. I still had many contents of the refrigerator on my counters while I was waiting for the shelves to dry. But no problem, I am a multitasker and that was no issue. I stooped down scrubbed a bit on the oven spot, then I pushed the refrigerator contents aside so I could make chicken salad. Knowing all along that my youngest would complain about such a lunch. But doing it anyway because at some time in her life she is going to have to like food that is mixed. She is still in the separate but equal phase of her eating career. Bear in mind the oven door was still open while all this is going on and I had been gracefully side stepping the door all this time.
Well, things changed quickly, after I had just added my forth project of feeding my 20 year old cat, Homme. I was turned back around to my kitchen sink, thinking about why its so hard to scrub a oven, how did those capers get lost, is Homme really going to keep on meowing when the food is right in front of him, and last but not least what type of face while Anaïs have once she sees that not only had I contaminated her chicken by making chicken salad, I had also mixed the peas and corn together. As all these thoughts were going through my head, I did a classic Spillar, I turned rather quickly and ran my lower right leg right across the open edge of the oven door. I felt no pain, I knew it was bad. I must of yelped because both Anaïs and Parker came running in. I immediately told them to get their Dad. They got him quickly by calling out that I was hurt and gushing blood.
After sitting down and covering it in paper towels (ran out of large bandages from an earlier accident) and medical tape. I told them to hurry up and eat (that's the Mom in me... must take care of family first even though I really need to see a doctor). I sat and contemplated if they could stitch this mess and if so how many. I did not want to waste an emergency room visit. After a while I realized that I could not stop the bleeding and started wondering if it was because of my double platelet donation two days before. So I told the family to hurry up and eat and please toss all the contents of the fridge back in. Secretly, I was hoping that they put them back in the right places. I did not want to loose those capers again.
Then we all went to the emergency room. Fourteen stitches later, I am a proud owner of a wonderful smiley face wound.
The next morning, Parker came into the bedroom with a sheepish grin on his face. Then he produced a sharpie and a huge giggle. I knew immediately what he was planning. See the picture below of his wonderful addition to my leg.