Just call me stubby

A couple of days ago I was running around the house trying to clean up in record time. In doing so, I stubbed my toe on our ottoman -- almost perfectly, actually. Three middle toes square on. They each turned the same shade of red, in fact. I yelled and cursed and hobbled around and was mostly really glad that no one was around. A couple of hours later...I did it again...in the exact same spot for the exact same reason and with the exact same result.

The next day I was preparing for a brunch with my in-laws and when I get to get the extra leaf out of storage. This time, I stubbed the other foot.

I regularly bend fingernails backwards and I trip on a consistant basis. I'm surprised I'm as in tact as I am. I expect to begin destroying other limbs any day now.

In fact, a few weeks ago I was closing my car door while getting out of it. You read that right -- I was closing it while getting out -- ran it right into my arm and left a bruise the size of Rhode Island. Hey, Rhode Island is big when it's on your arm! I wouldn't exactly call me clumsy, just...well pretty soon they'll be calling me stubby.