Madness

You know that feeling you get when your feet are freezing and you get into a hot bath or shower? That unbearable burning feeling because your body can’t seem to handle the transition from hot to cold?

Think about how this lady must be feeling as she timidly dips her toe into that spa. Feel her pain.

Unimaginable pain

The other day I pulled a Melissa by opening my bedroom door on my foot. Well, on my big toe.

There are no words to describe the pain I then suffered as a result of this mistake, and it was at least half an hour before I could walk properly again.

I’d gotten up to go out of my room at the same time that my flatmate came knocking on my door. Our eyes met as the door slammed into my toe, and whatever she was about to say to me was lost in my howls of agony. As was the only logical thing to do, I threw myself around the room, hopping on one foot and hammering on my bedroom wall.

After calming down a little, I turned and saw the kitten crouching, terrified, on my bed, with his head down low and his wide, dilated eyes fixed on me. It took awhile for him to get over it and trust me again after seeing me unleash my inner gorilla.

I almost felt guilty.

Overenthusiastic felines

My flatmate and I have been kitten hunting at the SPCA, and as you can see, some of the kittens tried to cop a feel. 

I don’t know what it is, but whenever Sacha cuddles the kittens they lie docilely in her arms, like sweet, little balls of fluff that exist for the sole purpose of looking cute and being snuggled. When I hold them though, they seem to think it’s playtime.

Sacha and I each picked up a kitten, and the one I was holding went absolutely nuts; smooching my face, wrapping its paws around my neck, climbing up onto my shoulder so it could wiggle underneath my hair. Sacha’s kitten just lay there looking cute. Moments after she passed it to me, however, it, too, went crazy. Like its predecessor, it managed to shimmy its way up my chest, onto my shoulder, and underneath my hair. 

The result was a number of scratches dotting my chest and around the back of my scalp. One thing’s for sure, those kittens seemed to be having a hell of time.

My clumsy ways

I used to have scars on my wrists, but not for the reason you’d think.

They’ve faded now, but while they were still etched into my skin they bore testimony to my unbelievable knack for hurting myself in stupid ways.

Let me paint a picture.

It was a crisp, Spring morning, in my final years of high school, and I was home alone. Everyone else had left for school and work, and I was waiting for the school bus.

Our back lawn was higher than our house, so there was a set of concrete steps (about seven) that led up to the grass. With about five minutes before I needed to walk to the bus stop, I decided to lock up the house and go sit up on the lawn for a little while.

Big mistake, apparently.

With a quick look at the time on my phone, I decided I should be on my merry way, and I headed towards the steps.

I’m not entirely sure how I managed it. One moment I was putting my foot forward, and the next moment I was literally tumbling down the steps. It wasn’t even a simple trip and fall, it was a perfectly executed forward roll down the concrete. So before I knew it, I found myself lying at the bottom of the steps, scrapes running up my wrists, shins and ankles, with my dog standing beside me wagging his tail like an idiot.

With nobody at home, and only moments to go before the school bus arrived, I had to painfully limp to the bus stop and go to school anyway. Luckily my friends patched me up with Captain America bandaids when I got to class.

The sad thing is that I’m always hurting myself without quite knowing how. I recently had surgery on my knee after tearing the cartilage by swiveling on my leg in a strange way. A couple of years ago I fractured my foot by, get this, stepping funny. My classmates used to joke “haha, Melissa broke her foot tripping over nothing,” but that’s not true. I didn’t even trip. My foot simply broke.

I don’t know what it is. Maybe danger seeks me out? Maybe I am a gigantic clutz?

I’m a little afraid of what life throws at me next, because I’ll probably break a couple of fingers while I try to catch it.