Banging my head against the wall

Literally (well, I guess it wasn't a wall, if we want to get technical).

And unintentionally. 

Being the genius that I am, today as I was doing laundry, I turned my head away from the washer back toward my laundry basket, and WHACK!

I smacked my head against a hard wood cabinet. Hard. 

It was loud enough that my friend in the kitchen said, "What was that?!" and later her husband, who had been on the other side of the house, told me he had heard the impact. 

We are all pretty sure it's not a concussion nor needing doctor attention, but I am sporting a nice goose egg. If it's still there tomorrow I'm going to let people at work guess what happened. Not sure if you can see it super well in the pic below, but I've photographed it so you can feel extra bad for me. 

I took some ibuprofen and iced my head. First with a bag of beans, then with an actual ice pack that is usually reserved for my migraines or plantar fasciitis. Yeah, I've got medical issues. Luckily they can mostly be treated with OTC anti-inflammatory drugs and ice. Count your blessings, yo. 

Prior to the impact, to which it will hereafter be referred, I had plans to go for a run (after putting clothes in the washer...) and then go meet with friends for some beers. Needless to say neither of those activities will be happening today. I am soldiering through with the laundry, however, moving a little more slowly this time...

Seriously, when you get these needless injuries, don't you feel like an idiot? Share your how-did-that-happen? injuries in a comment below--it'll be fun! Then send a friend over to the site to share his or hers!

Was that shameless plug shameless enough? When you hit your head, you probably gain a little tolerance for shamelessness.

I'm planning to rearrange plans for the evening with some salty chips, some Coke Zero (also known as Cozo, which I nicknamed it last summer), maybe some ice cream. Snuggle in with my latest read. If you want to feel sorry for me and tell me how much you like me, I will accept phone calls. And emails and flowers and chocolates. But no texts. 

That's how I know my consciousness wasn't altered during the impact, because I'm well aware that my communication preferences still lie within the twentieth century. As they should be for this girl, who is newly adorned with a stylish (final color to be determined) goose egg.