Venting; or: I'm too damn clumsy

Oct 18, 2008 18:11

OK, it's now Saturday, and I'm still irritated at myself for being airheaded and clumsy on Wednesday night. Please feel free to ignore this post, I'm venting.



So, ok, Wednesday night. Himself finally decides that he is ready for dinner around 11. Okey, fine, no problem. I forgot to get "real meat" when I went shopping on Monday, so the freezer is looking slightly bare. Got the old emergency standby though - clam strips. OK, Wednesday night fry coming up!

Well, go to kitchen, turn on the fire under the fat, and prep for making french fries. Oops, can't rinse the spuds because the sink is full! Stupid boy didn't empty the dishwasher, so the dirties have backed up. With heavy sighs I put away the clean, load up the dirties and clean the sink. Wash the potatoes, cut and rinse them.

Mind you, the fire has been going full blast under the fat this whole time. It is BOILING. I dump a couple of handfulls of potato slices in and it starts to boil over. Great. Just what I need. On the up side, the spuds were cooked INSTANTLY. Turn off the fire, and start to clean up the mess - don't want spilled fat catching fire!! Go to move pot off of the burner, and aggravation makes my hands twitch. The boiling hot fat SLOSHES up out of the pot - all over my shirt and the left side of my face.

Brain says "this is gonna hurt in a minute", so I put the pot back down and run to the bathroom, grab the shower hose and spray down, bitching because the water won't get cold (Texas - even the dirt under the house is hot). Hubby finds out what's going on, orders me to take a deep breath, go to the kitchen, get a towel full of ice and a branch off the aloe plant (I have a HUGE aloe - it's a necessity). He proceeds to smear the aloe all over my face, then I ice. He looks again like three minutes later, and tells me to go to the ER.

So I drive to the ER (coulda walked, we live right next to the hospital, but it was late). As I walk in, it's been maybe 10 minutes since I sloshed. The pain is beginning. I can't move my upper lip, and my left cheek is melting.

Eventually (rather quickly by the clock, but it seemed like 100 years) they wash the aloe and last of the fat off my face (OWWWIIIIEEEE), and put on some ointment. Then they make disapproving noises when they find I'm alone, and so I get boy out of bed and make him drive over. When he gets there, they give me a shot of morphine, and send me home with scripts.

So, now I'm keeping the left side of my face all greasy with the ointment, trying hard not to take the pain pills (gets easier each day), and not stepping a toe outside the door.

I look like I have radiation poisoning. It's horrible.

And the worst part is, I couldn't bring myself to leave the house to go see starsforophelia get married, and I'd worked so hard to make sure I could!! I'm sorry Jen! I really wanted to be there, but short of a bag over my head . . .

vent

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