Or how I didn't feel like painting and broke my head instead.
Some days are like this, gloomy, too quiet. Funky. I spent a few minutes in the studio. Stared at everything and walked out. Went down the basement spent about 5 minutes watching my wonderful new Daniella Woolf DVD, "Encaustic with a Textile Sensibility". I had watched the whole thing a couple days ago, but somehow was too restless to watch more than a couple minutes again. Came back upstairs, looked in the refrigerator. Turned on the living room tv. Turned off the tv. Looked in the refrigerator again. Went back upstairs to the studio. Felt the paint brushes. Left the studio. Poured a cup of coffee. Opened the dish washer. Put a dirty bowl in. Wiped the counter. Grabbed a wood tray to put back in it's place. Fell over the opened dishwasher door.
Ahhh, that last item… That's what you really shouldn't do to avoid painting. The wood tray hit the floor and evidently my head hit the edge of the tray. There was blood, blood flying out of my head. I managed to extract myself from the dishwasher door and went into the bathroom. I looked like a cheesy horror movie…my face totally red with blood. I rinsed my face and went to the kitchen for a clean cloth and pressed it into my head hole. Found my phone. Called John.
Twenty minutes later he arrived and took me to the hospital for stitches. Four hours, 3 inter-stitches, 8 outer stitches, a cat scan of my head (no internal bleeding), an X-ray of my right hand (no broken bones), and insurance forms signed later, we headed back home.
I'm fine, a few bruises here and there, and an ugly forehead. By the way, if you're going to try this yourself, it's a good idea to wear bangs.
Reminiscent of Hitchcock films, I'm including a picture, blood looks better in black and white.
I was renaming myself Jill (of Jack and Jill fame), however Jack was the one who broke his crown. So go ahead, call me Jack.