How’s that for an eye catching title?
While I have your attention, I’d like to introduce you to a new term for your vocabulary:
An Impism is an occurrence that happens only with the presence of Murphy (from Murphy’s Law infamy), and usually, but not always, includes some sort of physical injury.
And, generally speaking, is one of those things that, when the story is shared with others, they exclaim, “That could ONLY happen to YOU!”
So. Had myself quite the Impism occur yesterday.
I stepped outside on to the back porch. There’s a small bit of roof there, and I walked out from underneath that to chat with Wolf, who was shovelling snow.
Then there was a sound.
Before I had even processed that, another event occurred.
The porch roof vomited snow and ice all over my head.
I saw stars, clutched the top of my head, and commenced making a noise that I honestly can’t describe, because I only dimly remember it.
Tazzie and Wolf, thinking my reaction was solely due to getting pummeled with snow, and likely had it all down my neck and back, were amused. Tazzie was giggling.
Until they saw the blood.
See, in our house, “Is there blood? Are you on fire?” is a pretty common question. My kids are loud, and tend towards the dramatic, so it’s not an illogical thing to be asking.
So, back to the blood. Tazzie starts to panic, because this isn’t funny anymore. Wolf is a bit panicked, because he can’t immediately tell if I’ve sliced my face up, or if it’s all coming from the top of my head, or what. By this time, I’m calm and start handing out directions.
Start getting woozy and nauseated, so, off to get checked out. I know head wounds bleed like stink, without actually being indicative of anything, but better to check things out. As I said to Wolf, at least I wasn’t wearing my fuzzy, hot pink, moose print, footie jammies with the butt flap.
End result: don’t need stitches, which surprised everyone, including the Dr and nurse, have a concussion, and go home and rest. I have a considerable goose egg happening, neck is stiffer than all holy heck, and gobbling Tylenol.
Oh, and Wolf says I’m not allowed out again until Spring.