Spring Hill Patient

Several people this morning have asked how my weekend was - and my response – hazardous.

Exhibit A: I burned two knuckles on my right hand while getting something out of the oven. (Yes, I cook. Yes, my husband likes my cooking. And yes, now that I will have hideous scars on my right hand, I will be forced to start wearing one glove.)
Exhibit B: I stubbed/BROKE my little toe on my right foot. I had actually gotten dressed to go exercise and was just walking to the laundry room to add another load and WHAM. Of course I didn’t make it to the park. Instead, I worked out by lying on the couch crying (read: wailing loudly) and watching bad TV. (You know, like when the English Patient comes on the WB afternoon movie, and it was boring the first time you saw it and there's not one reason on earth you should watch it ever again, but for some reason you can't look away even though you should be writing wedding thank you notes and painting the bedroom.)
Exhibit C: I burned my left arm on a cookie sheet fresh out of the oven
Exhibit D: While grocery shopping at Wal-Mart, a strange man said Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere? NO!, I said.
Exhibit E: 24 was grossly overlooked at the Emmys. Only three more months until Jack is back.