I've had my first remodeling injury.
Last night, as I was waiting for an electrician to come by to give me an estimate on installing the wiring for light over our breakfast bar, I decided to use the time wisely and paint some more moulding. I was crouched on the living room floor, stirring the paint. The phone rang.
Now, this is one of those times when everything happens very slowly. You don't want to miss the phone call - it's probably the electrician. But you don't want to leave a can of paint open, either. So I "carefully hurried" to close the can of paint and jumped up to run into the kitchen, where my phone was.
I had to go through the dining room. There's a light fixture in there. It's too low, even with a table underneath, as you can see the light bulb just walking by:
I ran directly into the glass "bowl" - with the bridge of my nose.
Blood everywhere, I called Kyle bawling. After rushing to my rescue with ice, he decided a couple stitches would probably be best. "Since you're a girl," he said. Apparently men like having permanent scarring.
Just driving by the emergency room made it clear we'd be there for several hours, and we found the closest urgent care clinic (or as Kyle calls them, "doc-in-box"). The very nice doctor took one look at me and decided it was the sort of injury that was "made for liquid stitches," due to the nice clean lines of the cut (glass will do that). We were in and out in under two hours - no wait.
They covered my eyes to protect them from the Dermabond. I insisted Kyle take a photo. "I'm going to blog about this," I announced to his and the physician's assistant's amusement. It was kinda funny by then. Good icing will do that.
Kyle set me up on the couch with a six pack of Miller Lite, an ice bag in a towel, some mashed potatoes and tomato soup (this same day the TMJ decided to go haywire - big fun!) , and headed back to work on the new house. See why I'm marrying him?