File this one under the
Am-I-the-Only-One-This-Stuff-Happens-To department.
Nope, it wasn’t a moving violation.
But it hurt. (Don’t laugh. Ouch. I bet you just did.)
I had just returned from a dusty
road trip to a horse expo, driving through woodsy areas and plenty of mud. The
windshield displayed more bugs than a science fair presentation on entomology.
Trust me. It was gross.
Coming home to an unseasonably warm
spring day, I decided to unpack and then wash my car in the driveway.
I dragged the garden hose out. I
soaked and soaped and scrubbed and rinsed. The entire car sparkled – except the
insect-spattered windshield.
So I grabbed the picnic cooler (which was still full of weekend refreshments) and slid it over next to the
car. I picked up a spray bottle of window cleaner and a couple of rags. I
climbed on the cooler and started working on that windshield.
And I slipped.
The hood of the car broke my fall … and cracked a rib. I knew it right away. I’ve broken ribs before, and there is nothing like it.
The hood of the car broke my fall … and cracked a rib. I knew it right away. I’ve broken ribs before, and there is nothing like it.
Gasp! Sputter! Groan!
It only hurts when I lift heavy
stuff … or laugh … or breathe too deeply … or try to sit up straight … or roll
over in the night … or …
The scorecard now reads: Windshield 1, Rib 0
Now I’m off to buy a lightweight stepladder - and maybe come up with a better (or cooler?) story to go along with the rib injury.
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