A Little Bit Painful

I am really sorry I have not been posting much lately. I am in the middle of "something" so I have not been near my computer much. I do not want to jinx anything yet so I have not said anything. I pinky promise that I will tell you all as soon as I can. Now...as you were....

The next post in the "Getting To Know Me Series" is going to be a little bit painful. You know why? Because it is about my worst injuries! And you thought it was going to be all depressing and stuff.

The Sweet Kitty That Wasn't So Sweet

When I was about 11 or so, I went outside to play in the field next to our house. There was this black and white cat that was meowing in the field, watching me as I ran up. I stopped and looked at it because I knew some cats weren't nice. So it walked up to me and started purring. I figured it wanted to be petted since it was purring so I leaned down and touched it's head. In a split second this cat was hissing and attached to my arm. I started screaming and shaking my arm around wildly while this cat stuck to my arm. After what felt like eternity it finally detached it's claws from my little arm and I ran for my life into my house. What a sight it must have been for my mother when I burst through the door screaming and bleeding all down my arm. She asked what had happened and I didn't want to look stupid so I told her I thought it was our cat Lucky so I petted it. Um...Lucky was all black and this cat was black and white. She later pointed that out a couple days later. I ended up getting cleaned up at the house and did not need to go to the hospital but it left a nasty scar on my left arm.

That same cat 1. Knocked up our cat and she had a baby that looked just like it's dad, and I LOVED that kitten. 2. Went next door and attacked their cats so animal control came and had to put it down. That cat was a bad kitty. But I will have you know that I no longer pet ANY cat, whether they are purring or not. I have no trust for them.

Big Toe NOOOOOOO!

Right after my parents got divorced, my mother and I moved into an apartment. While she went to get some stuff from the store, I was making Macaroni and Cheese for dinner. While it was cooking I was exploring the kitchen and opening cabinets and drawers. I got to the drawer in front of the sink. I had seen the ones that popped open so I tried to do that. I pulled...and pulled...and pulled but it did not "pop open". It, in fact, popped off and out of shock I dropped the heavy piece of wood onto my foot and when I looked down my toenail had broken down the middle and was shooting blood out of it. Of course my instinct is to hop around the kitchen floor in pain, spreading blood around. And THAT is when my mother walks in the door and stares at me like, "I leave you alone for 10 minutes." She...again... helped fix me up and there was no much she could do. My nail was broken and I could barely walk on it. On the plus side, I did not have to do the running part of the Physical Training test in JROTC that year at my school do to my "problem". I know the teachers thought I was an idiot for doing that to myself but oh well. I gave them, and everyone else, a laugh that year. My nail died and eventually regrew. Unless I told you, you would never know anything had happened to it. So that is good.

I realize that both injuries are caused by me being an idiot and touching things I should not be touching. But at least I only do it once.