Burn

It's no surprise that I am a bit of a klutz. Ok, ok. More than a bit. Either way it's a miracle that I can walk and talk and fold laundry at the same time. A trait that I have gotten particularly good at while also writing a list. Any list will do. But hey, I'm not bragging.

So, me. And having retarded hands and feet.

Last night I was getting ready for work; something that I rather enjoy because it's one of the few times that I actually get ready for anything and I know that I am about to hang out with other adults. Albeit some certified wackos but I'm not complaining (at least not right at this minute).

I'm having a grand 'ole time drying my hair, putting on makeup (it's the small luxuries really) and then curling my hair.

It's during this last scene that something tragic happens.

Something horrific.

Something down right wrong.

I dropped my curling iron.

But this dropping didn't occur just anywhere.

Nope.

I dropped it on me.

On a very specific and sensitive part of me.

My boob.

That's right. I dropped my curling iron on one of my "bumps." And boy-howdy did I almost bring the house down from sheer pain. You would think that I would have learned my lessen when it comes to getting ready and being clothed here. But no. I am stubborn and set in my ways.

And now?

Now I have a burned boob to show for it.