Frankly, I have no one to blame but myself. For how can you be angry at an inanimate object?
Last night we had church, as we always do on Wednesday nights. We normally get out around 8, but Marsh and I were
If you want to maintain a nice opinion about your acquaintances and friends, don't talk about politics.
Anyway, we got home about 10:30, and by that time, I did not feel like making a promised cake for my student. Instead, I was going to get up early and make it before school.
As there was no way I was going to disappoint my student, I made the batter and stuck it in the oven before rushing over to school. I planned on coming back in 20 minutes, by which time the cake should have been done.
After having the preschool teacher agree to watch my students, I set off back to my house. It was bitterly cold today, with a wind that just sliced through you. I put my hands in my pockets and stepped up my pace. I walked up the gravel walk behind Bader's store and our house, past Goldi {Marsh's car}, and around the corner of our house.
I lifted my foot to take the first of two steps, only to find myself on all fours--my shins scraped and blood spurting out of my little pinkie. Because my hands were in my pockets, there was no way I could have broken my fall. One of my sandals fell off, and I found myself doing a pain dance before I could bring myself to walk up the steps, open the door and walk in.
I thought I had a high pain tolerance, but apparently it's been some time since I've gotten hurt.
My battle wound--well, my fingers. My shins are black and blue and hurt everytime I walk.
I guess the moral of the story is: Don't talk politics with your friends when you've got lots to do. It'll just set you back!
Have a good night, all!
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