Rebirth Of Slick

That's my husbands new nickname for me...Slick. For so many reasons. Let's take a little yearly review in Mia's clutziness, shall we?

1. About a year and a half ago, I managed to poison myself by eating windex laced meat. Yup, I cleaned the counters, sprayed all around my dinner, and thought I was gonna die. Stupid I know.
2. I broke the pinkie toe on my left foot by stubbing it against the wall. And just so you know this pain was unbelievable.
3. Next week, I broke my tailbone by falling. And I thought the toe hurt.
4. Week after breaking my ass, I break the pinkie toe on my right foot by stubbing it against the curb at the store.
5. Fast forward a couple months, to January of this year and I almost cut my finger off. Gross, pain, omg...but it's healing quite nicely, aside from the nasty scar.



Then yesterday, I decided to go ahead and finish up the bathroom remodeling. I'm so close to being done, and excited to be able to put all the finishing touches on the wall. One of the last things to be done is to scrape off all this black glue-y stuff left on the wall from when my mirror fell off and shattered into a billion pieces, and what better way to get that off the wall then a big ol box knife. Right? RIGHT?

Yeah, not so much.



I slid that knife right into my hand and made a puncture wound and cut so deep the blade was completely buried in my hand. I was seeing meat people. That's twice now I've been able to see into my own hand. It looks alot better today though, after the two stitches, but it's beginning to hurt a bit from all the typing.

That would be my cue to exit this box.

Slick Out.