You might even be saying out loud "I once had this day where I walked out the front door and got shit on by a huge crow and it only got worse from there!"
Heck, you might even be saying "I once had a day where I got stabbed by a two year old!"
I can still beat you.
Friday had potential. Because I work in Gatineau, Quebec, I had the day off to celebrate St Jean Baptiste Day. I didn't celebrate. What I did was shit all over it like the crow did to me a few years ago - which is how I admit to you that I have also been stabbed by a two year old.
Let's back up to Thursday night to get the full picture. I play ball hockey on Thursday nights. Have done so for years. Every year John points and laughs at the bruises on my legs and reminds me that women who play ball hockey without protective gear are stupid. Personally, I think we are tough as nails. At least I used to. In the spirit of going for it and giving it all you got, I got a stick blade right in my shin. Not only did it hurt like the ring of fire only women will know, it left me with a sizeable
gash. Being a smart and responsible woman, I completely ignored my fourteen year old daughter and did not go to the ER Thursday night, I went Friday morning. The ER doctor simply shook his head, put some glue on it, gave me a tetanus shot and gave me crap for not going in when it was fresh. No chance of stitches or it healing nicely, but a huge change of a really badass scar!
From there I went about my day thinking it couldn't get worse, and for a while it didn't. I had lunch with my kid and my mother, did a little shopping and stopped at the liquor store on my way home. Keep that last stop in your mind. I will need my purchases there later in the story.
Because on my way home I got into a pretty decent car accident. The details aren't of major importance (mostly because they make me look like a complete doof), but everyone is healthy and my truck is currently in the shop being appraised for damage. At first it drove fine, even though my front bumper was in the back trunk and my license plate nowhere to be found, but now we seem to be dealing with some mechanical issues that make it feel more and more like I may have really, really screwed us over.
If that wasn't enough, don't forget I live in a small town. This happened on a reasonably busy street in that small town so not only did people who know me see me, a lot of people who know me saw me. I could see the fingers as they drove by. The questions of "Hey, isn't that the girl who read our magazines at the post office?" or "Isn't that your soccer coach from last year?" or "Isn't that the treasurer of the Catholic School Council!? What did she do!?"
Like I said. Bad day, right? I didn't dare go out that night. Or attempt to operate machinery. Or start a grill. I didn't even try to brush my teeth! Who knows what I'd stab out with that kind of plastic!