My husband sprained his ankle standing at his desk.
Yes, I have walked into that exact same door frame every day since we lived in this house, but at least I didn't sprain my ankle standing at my desk.
Yes, I did just whack my head on the bathroom counter for the 5,000th time. At least I didn't sprain my ankle standing at my desk.
Yes, Mr. Smarty Pants, I did just trip over my own foot. But I've never sprained my ankle by standing up. Don't we know someone who did that once? Oh, yeah, it was you! In your face.
Yeah I did just spazz out and unintentionally dump a plate of my spaghetti all down my front. But I've never sprained my ankle at my freaking desk. Who looks stupid, now, huh? Okay, since I haven't changed shirts yet, maybe that one is a draw.
Perhaps you think I am running this into the ground. And I totally, totally am. Its got to be half way to China by now, and still digging. The thing is, I've known this man for 10 years. In that time, I have hit my head on uncountable cabinet doors, car door frames, and random shelves. I have knocked over entire displays in department stores. I have poked myself in the eye with everything from straws to my own glasses to my husband's cake smeared finger (yes, at my wedding). I have tripped over my own feet on a regular basis, and on one memorable occasion, I kicked myself in my own shin. Not to mention the number of food and beverage items I have upended on my own person just because sometimes my hands think they belong to someone else. In 10 years do you know what uncoordinated things he has done? He has sprained his ankle standing up at his desk at work. And that's it. So I am going to milk this baby until its dry (that's what she said) and I am also going to wait patiently for my "Best Wife Ever" award to come in the mail.