Glass Houses

Have you ever had one of those days you just wished you could do over? You wake up on the wrong side of the bed, and even though there might not be anything particularly wrong, you just feel... blah.

Yesterday was one of those days - I was cranky, in part, because it would have been my mom's 55th birthday. But also because I was tired, sick, and it was raining. Luckily, I've only had one baby to watch this week, as the other family is on vacation, but I spent most of the day coughing and washing my hands attempting not to infect my adorable charge.

Upon leaving work the sky looks as though it belongs in some sort of Edgar Allen Poe story -- dark and foreboding. As I drive home it begins to rain... which is fine. I don't really mind rain, aside from the irritation that comes when people forgot how to drive in it. I get home, and it's pouring, so I gather my stuff and run to the door, only to realize that Hub has indeed dead bolted the door on the inside -- so I can't get in. So here I am, standing in the rain, sick, tired, sad and irritated. So, I knock on the door, which is glass paneled on top (do we begin to see where this is going?), I don't hear Hub responding, so I decided to knock louder, also harder. Well, knocking hard on thin, 30 year old glass is a bad idea. My hand went THROUGH the glass and sliced my wrist open. Ok, great. There is a ton of blood, and I can't really see where is it sliced, but Hub opens the door and immediately we grab a towel, apply pressure and head to the ER. My first thought is that they are going to think I tried to slit my wrists and I'm going to have to deal with some sort of psych eval, but luckily no one even intimated that. The cut ended up being more to the side, and while it required 4 stiches, didn't really do much damage, other than making me feel like an idiot.

So, you know the old saying "People who live in glass houses should not throw stones" ? Well, they shouldn't knock on them, either.