Max Doom

On Thursday, I managed to fall down the stairs. I know, my usual grace. Because of the fall, I was cranky and extremely sore for the next several days. To help you better understand the moment on Thursday, I have constructed lifelike representations:





I guess my artistic skillz don't really surprise any of you.

This morning (when I was finally able to wake up and move instead of lying in bed in pain for a little while) I thought it would be a good idea to fling my backpack (laptop and drama anthology and such) onto my back and head to school and work. And twinge. My back, which I hurt the most in my dive down the steps, immediately tightened up. Although the rest of my bruised self (my tailbone--yes, I mean my butt, and my shoulder) are doing just fine, my back has started hurting yet again. Crankiness ensues.

I would have finished my sock if it hadn't been for the proverbial banana peel on the steps. I did manage to finish my homework just fine (oh, cruel fate!). This is what I get for so casually talking about how many times I've broken my right arm. At least roommate #2 (roommate #1 was not there) was a good enough person to leave his shiny new addictive MMORPG to check on me AND not laugh.

I'm currently considering stretching out on the library floor so I can lie down. And why not?--some professors do it in their office all the time for a quick nap.