This morning while putting the list together for our Instacart order, I injured myself. Jennifer and I were almost finished with the list when she asked me to see what our paper towel and toilet paper situation was like. Having had a close call with toilet paper in the early days of the pandemic, we try to keep a close eye on the levels of our paper products.
We keep those items in our hallway coat closet because our pantry is too full for them and there is nowhere more practical to keep paper goods. I leaned into the closet to count the paper towels in the large cardboard box we keep them in. “1, 2, 3, 4 wait is that another roll?” I ducked my head down rather forcefully to look in the bottom of the box and smacked my head right into the bare metal of the forgotten, but suddenly remembered clothes rod.
Good news! We did have another roll of paper towels.
Bad news. It hurt like a mutha.
I yelped and held my head and yelped some more. My yelping must have made quite an impression because Jennifer came and kissed me on the spot that I hit to make the pain go away. I am forty-seven years old and have not had a booboo kissed by my mom since Reagan was in his first term, but I gladly took a healing kiss to the head.
Healing kisses aside, it still hurts, and the headache I have had since then has made it impossible to sit down and write for longer than a couple of minutes at a time. I’ve spent most of my day lying back in a recliner in a dark room with my eyes covered to keep nauseation at bay. I do not think that I have done any permanent damage. I just think that I rang my bell nice and hard. It feels like I induced a migraine through blunt force trauma.
I’ve had a couple of fitful naps and eaten some lunch since then. I rallied to put away the groceries once our Instacart order arrived, but I would not call this my most productive day ever. In fact, it has been my least productive day in weeks. Considering that I have had a spectacularly unproductive November so far, that is saying something. I have had my reasons, I suppose.
I had started a much more involved post for today, but that was before I tried to brain myself in the coat closet. I remain my own worst enemy. Physically as well as mentally, apparently.
Will I return to form next week or will I injure myself retrieving the GrubHub order? Will the slow-moving rightwing coup suddenly speed up to an autogolpe? Who can say what the future will bring?
Have a great week, y’all.
Thank you, as always, for reading.
Drop me a line: jeremydnichols@toolatesmart.org
Follow me on Twitter: @jeremydnichols
Follow me on Instagram: @germynickels
My PayPal: PayPal for Jeremy Nichols
Discord server: Too Late Smart Newsletter Server