Last Saturday morning I was getting myself primped and polished before our day in Salem with the Lassens. Primping and polishing, for me, does not usually involve an especially lengthy amount of time because I’ve reached that point where I’m pretty sure no one cares what I look like and I’ve almost convinced myself that I don’t either. So it’s not like I was working hard to get ready. I think my primping involved a hair dryer and my polishing was pretty much wrinkle cream and mascara.
Hang on a minute. I need to cry a little over how pathetic that is.
Alright, I’m okay now.
Just as I was finishing up, I knocked a coffee mug off the counter and guess where it landed? If you’ve been paying attention to The Clumsy Adventures of Jen, you know that it landed right on my foot. Two of my toes almost immediately turned a beautiful shade of eggplant.
The other thing about this that should not be surprising is that it was 
not my coffee mug that fell, but my husband’s. And it was one of those large and very heavy 20-ounce Starbucks city mugs. (Now do you believe he’s trying to kill me?)
Don’t worry; I’ve already planned out my revenge. I scrubbed the shower today, top to bottom, and it is so freakin’ slippery I almost got revenge on myself. So, yeah. Victor will be sorry he left that mug on the counter. And laughed when I showed him my swollen foot. And married someone with too much time on her hands.
