First, you should know that I bruise like a peach. No really. I have lots of bruises on me that I never remembered getting in the first place.
Last night, I went down to my basement* to do laundry. Somehow I turned and slammed into the corner of the stairs where the pointy end felt like it stabbed me in the thigh. It hurt so badly when it happened that I stopped in my tracks that thought, "Well, that sucked." Also, I may or may not have cussed.
I couldn't even lay on it last night...and when I went running this morning I could FEEL the bruise spreading. Sure enough, it's already about the size of a tennis ball.
And it hurts. OMFG, how it hurts. Just my jeans touching it hurts. I swear, it feels hot to the touch.
To make matters worse, it must be at some sort of magical height that EVERYTHING is at, because I have bumped it against my desk, my armrest to my chair, my hands, the wall (when trying to get out of a co-worker's way), and just about everything else you can think of.
It's like it's the black hole of pain.
*I use the word "basement" in the most literal sense. It's 80 square feet of enclosed space, is not finished (such that the crawl space is just dirt), and has wooden planks that barely make up stairs. Also, I'm pretty sure the boogeyman lives there.
14 hours ago