Not a Doorknob
It was so dumb, really, and such a minor thing to have such a big result. I was shoveling snow off the deck. I leaned the shovel against the railing and bent down to pick up something in the way, and the shovel came down and bonked me--right on the bony edge of my right eye socket. It made my eyes water, but feeling around I could tell there was no blood, so I stayed on task. Two hours later I glanced in a mirror and whoa! There was a livid shade of purple starting to creep around my eye. By the next day I had a heck of a shiner.
The odd thing is that there is no swelling, so I can't see it; and it doesn't hurt, so I tend to forget it is there. Then I walk past a mirror and am shocked all over again.
Yesterday Dutch and I went to the weekly Chamber of Commerce luncheon at a local restaurant. My colleagues do not generally attend this gathering, but a number of his do. Several people made jokes about when the beatings were going to quit and whether they needed to call the Alaska State Trooper sitting in the next room for me. Not that domestic violence is a laughing matter AT ALL, but in this case, well known to be the farthest thing from the truth. I did point out that Dutch is not left handed.
I never had a shiner before, and this has certainly been a painless one. Good thing, too; at $13.79 per pound for steak, I would not have been cold packing with it.
Labels: Tundra Life