Talk about a hangover!

I have a significant klutz factor. When I go rock climbing I always come home with bruised shins. I run into things, I get random bruises. There have been a few times in my marriage when I worried that people would think my husband beat me. "No, really, I DID run into a door."

On the first night in Ireland, I managed to bonk my eye into the corner of the bathroom sink in the middle of the night. (note: it's better to turn on the light in a strange bathroom rather than go on auto-pilot when you're half-asleep) I soaked a washcloth in the coldest water I could manage and pressed it against my face over and over. All I could think about was meeting new people with a black eye. I'm in a foreign country. Do I explain that I was an idiot and smacked myself with the bathroom sink? Or just let them think my husband beats me? Fortunately, other than some redness and swelling in my cheek, there was no mark.

A few nights ago I played tug-of-war with the dog. When we'd finished, I lay on the floor as she lay (I thought) behind me, near my head. All of a sudden, "Whop!!" I nearly blacked out. She'd hit me in the temple with the knot of her rope toy! Not just a gentle tap, she'd wailed it against the side of my head. I hadn't filled the ice tray in the new apartment yet, so had no recourse but sleep with that side of my head facing up and hope for the best.

As I drifted to sleep all I could picture was walking around a new town, or God forbid, being called for a job interview and having to explain that my dog beat me up. Yeah sure, lady!

Thankfully, the swelling and bruise are hidden by my hair. That was the night before the sofa excursion. When the salesman moaned about having drunk too much wine the night before, I was able to exclaim, "I'd be more sympathetic, but last night my DOG beat me up!"