I am not know as the most graceful person. I tend to trip over my feet and just last week, I walked into our elevator door.
So I don't know why I (and Andrew) was so surprised by what transpired yesterday.
I decided to be home-made savvy and make my own chicken broth.
I had it boiled and was putting it into jars when the jar JUMPED from my hand!
Oh, I should backtrack a second and let you know that since it was hot in our tiny kitchen, I had just taken off my sweatpants.
Yes, I was canning in my underwear.
So as I was saying, the jar JUMPED from my hand and smashed into the counter, shattering the mason jar and spilling boiling broth all over the counters, walls, floors, and me.
(Remember the bare thighs! Ouch!)
At this point everything slowed down (like in the movies).
I jumped from the hot broth burning me, slipped on the floor and landed, as luck would have it, on a piece of glass!
All this took a matter of seconds.
Thats when Andrew made it to the kitchen.
(We have a tiny apartment)
There I was, in my underoos, covered in broth and sitting on the kitchen floor, a puddle of blood quickly pooling by my foot.
I honestly think Andrew questioned our marriage in that moment.
Long story short, Im fine, the cut is healing nicely, and my kitchen almost doesn't smell like chicken anymore.
But since we had important things to do the next day (and it was sunny) I decided that I needed to "nice" up my bandage today!
Im nothing, if not fancy!