Concussed. And nonplussed.

In my prodigious list of Stupid Things I Do, I can now write one more off:

Knock self unconscious.

Amazingly enough, it wasn't at prom where I took it upon myself to make the last two bowls of hunch punch (pictures are coming as soon as I get my camera back), instead I managed to do it the following afternoon.

The Boy had just walked out the door and I began to tidy up my apartment: start the dishwasher, box the games we play, and collect my laundry. In my bedroom I stopped to straighten the duvet and sent the remotes clacking behind the bed. I huffed and moved to the foot of the bed and

WHACK!

I walked/bent down into the poster bedpost. Knocked myself right out and collapsed forward like an unloved Raggedy Ann doll. I was out for only a flash, but I lay on the floor and cried for about another 20 seconds.

Still lying on my stomach, I reached up and gingerly touched my forehead. In the same place as my really bad car accident when I was 17, and my "incident" when I was 21, was yet another squishy lump.

My poor forehead. I'm going to require bangs for life.

Even though it was only 4:30, I took it as a sign that I should pretty much end my day right there and I messed the duvet back up as I slipped between the sheets. I did have enough foresight to set my alarm for every two hours to wake up and check for disorientation.

I've done this sort of thing before.

Something I did not think of, however, was ice. Two days later and I still have a noticeable goose egg and bruising. And a perpetual headache.

And the remotes? Those bitches are still under the bed.