Thursday, October 12, 2006
I bumped my head last Saturday, or rather I slammed it with vicious force against a plastic container. I had to pass the clean laundry that she-who-washes-whiter-than-white had hung up under the veranda. So I ducked to get underneath and during that move I had a close encounter with the container that we have to use for our organic garbage. We Belgians are serious about sorting our waste, you know.
Following the head-slam, I may have produced a cross word or two. Maybe even three. I just hope that our neighbours’ kids weren’t playing outside at the time or their young innocent souls will be scarred for life. And it wasn’t for long before I felt the place of impact swell up to an impressive bump.
It annoys me every time I wash my face, comb my hair, scratch my head, put on sweaters or otherwise touch it. And I get a headache every time I bend over to tie my shoelaces or something. Luckily it didn’t change colour in the days that followed, I’d hated it if I would have to walk around with a colourful disco-ball on my face.