Accidents happen.

When I was a little kid, there were two things I wanted more than anything in the whole world: a retainer and crutches. My secret crush wore a retainer and I thought that slim steel wire across his upper molars was the coolest thing ever. When I did get my retainer later in life, sadly, most of the magic was gone. Retainers smell. It's a fact. They smell super bad.

Anyway, as to the crutches, I had a system in place whereby I was going to attain them. I routinely threw myself down the stairs in the hopes of breaking a leg. Don't act like this is weird. Unfortunately it never worked. And it's funny because I did everything I could think of to make it happen. I've only ever broken a toe after all that throwing and that really was an accident. I'm really a go-getter like that.

What is it about accidents? How come we want some to happen so badly (i.e. accidents of fate) while others kick you in the guts when you least expect it?

"Oops, I didn't meant to spill my chocolate milk down the front of your white trousers?"

"Oh sorry, did I elbow you in the face with a little bit of happiness?"

"Gosh, I didn't mean to walk in on you in the shower."

Accidents are so unpredictable. Seems like the common denominator is something or someone always gets broken. And that's really the shitty part, huh? You're driving along, minding your own business, following the traffic, honking pleasantly, and someone sideswipes you except you're not in a car which makes that kind of accident a thousand times worse and unwelcome. And they leave you mangled and bloody on the side of the road and now there's rubbernecking. It's a nightmare. Shit happens, right? Yeah, stupid shit. Stupid accidents.

I'm feeling pretty banged up today. I'm stunned by the series of events that led up to this unfortunate accident. I think throwing myself down the stairs would have been infinitely more pleasant.