Don't worry! I survived.

Just barely.

I had a terrible run in with the trash can. The big trash can, you know, the dumpster thingy.
I don't like to touch it so I don't ever put it out on the curb or bring it back in on trash day (yuck! that is not my job, that is his job - it's a boy job and I am a girl). But then, we had that crazy windstorm the other day, and I came back from running errands and there were trash cans blown all over my street, and I had to weave around them like I was playing that old 'Paperboy' video game and when I got to my driveway my garbage can was smack in the middle and there was no way around - and this is quite possibly the longest sentence ever and come to think of it, I don't really know how to use dashes - correctly. And shouldn't they have named it 'Paperperson' anyway? It must be a sexist game because there are plenty of Papergirls (although I don't know who would do that, it is clearly a boy job). Hmmm.
Where was I?
Oh yeah, the dumpster had blown over into the middle of the driveway - and it was very rude of Phil to not come home from work immediately and pick it up so I could get in the garage (I know! he clearly does not understand that trash-can-picking-up is a boy job and not a girl job) so then I was forced to go out there into the windy street and pick up the dumpster and take it into the garage - disgusting!
So I got out of the car and picked up the can and then BAM! a gust of wind came and blew the lid of the dumpster up and HIT ME IN THE HEAD!!! I'm not even kidding! And ( I know! How can it get any worse???) when it hit me in the head, I was so unprepared (this was, after all, a boy job that I, a girl, should not have been doing) that the impact actually KNOCKED ME OVER. I was on the actual ground. I could have DIED!
Good thing none of my neighbors were out watching me. I checked.
Really though, this all could have been avoided if Phil had just come home five hours early from his "job" (who knows what he does for a living? I certainly don't) and taken care of this problem. It's all his fault - now I have this gigantor bump.
Right here.


I know, it looks terrible doesn't it?
Oh, you can't see it? Well, let me just tell you. It feels terrible.
Boy jobs.
Girl jobs.
Let's keep 'em separate.