On Monday night I hit my head on a wall, split my forehead open, bled profusely all over myself, and got a concussion.
REALLY GOOD WEEK OVER HERE.
We were hanging out at our friends' awesome new house, a house I've been to before but have yet to fully grasp the twisty, multi-level floorplan -- I keep mistaking closets and the laundry room for the bathroom, and don't even get me started on the light switch situation, there are so many switches what do they all doooo. Half the time I just give up and pee in the dark.
Which is probably what I should have done on Monday, because our friends are ASSHOLES.
This is Suzy. They like to hide her around the house for maximum jump scare/creep out effect, and they get me EVERY SINGLE TIME.
BAM, turn a corner and she's there, lurking in the shadows. You sit down to pee and BAM. Creeping on ya in the shower.
Once again, she was hiding out in the bathroom, and once again, I was so preoccupied with finding the proper light switch that I didn't realize she was literally six inches away from my face and suddenly HERRRRREEEE'S SUZY!
I freaked out and spun around really quickly and THWACK. Right into a wall corner. Or maybe it was the door? I don't actually remember the collision itself, although it was loud enough for everyone on the floor below me to hear. Even the pain was a delayed reaction, as I put my hand on my forehead and immediately started babbling that "I'm fine! I'm fine! It's okay, I'm fine!"
Then I looked in the mirror and saw blood gushing down my face. I was not fine.
"Suzy did it," I told everybody when they asked what the hell happened.
I decided I did not need stitches (in retrospect, I probably should've gotten some stitches to minimize the scar), but instead just came home and fell asleep with an ice pack on my forehead. I woke up using the melted ice pack as a pillow, having continued to bleed all over my actual pillow overnight. Then I threw up and counted 20 separate fingers on my hands. I let the dog outside and then panicked because I couldn't find him in the house. Around 10 a.m. I went to talk to Jason about...something. What was the...something?
"I think I might have a concussion," I said, wobbling back and forth like a tipsy Captain Obvious.
"I think you are correct," he replied, after pulling up a symptom checklist to see if he needed to take me to the hospital. (No. Just go rest your brain, sweetheart.)
I took some Tylenol, collected all the pets and went back to bed. Cool story.
I am feeling much better today, although my left eyebrow area is still pretty swollen and the half-inch gash right above it is super attractive. But what's REALLY important right now are my simmering plans for revenge against our friends and that bitch Suzy. Suggestions welcome!