Meet Henry, and company.

Like I may or may not have mentioned, I am ridiculously clumsy and accident prone in general.

For example.

In January, for those of you who have no knowledge of the world outside your computers, it gets very cold, snowy, and icy out here in Utah. Although the grounds crews attempt to keep the sidewalks shoveled, etc, it doesn't really help at all. When they shovel, they simply scrape off the top layer of snow and call it good. They don't realize that there is an even slipperier, sleeker layer of packed snow/ice stuff they leave behind, which is magnanimously harder to walk on than the snow itself.

I am a living example to this statement.

When I was walking to class one such blustery day early this year, I was in a bit of a hurry and I was walking fairly quickly. Literally, about 20 feet from my building of goal, I biffed it.

I biffed it HARD.

I slipped there on a missed patch of ice next to a large planter and landed on my butt, arm and smacked my head on the brick lay.

It frikkin hurt, as attested to by my cries of "Eff!" and "Good Lord" as I scrambled to regain myself.

A kindly fellow attempted to help me up, but almost fell over himself in his goodwill. I hurriedly scuttled off to class, feeling a bit nauseous and an odd pain in my left arm.

I ended up sitting through only about 10 minutes of that class, until I decided I wasn't going to make it and scooted into the bathroom, where I promptly sat on the floor and lost consciousness. Like, seriously passed out.

Somehow or another I made it back inside the lecture at some point, and actually went to my next class as well, before I decided to call my mother and go to the emergency room, since at this point I couldn't move my arm at all.

After a long, harried day running in and out of doctors' offices and hospitals, I was given the diagnosis that my elbow was broken.

First of all, Who even breaks their elbow??? Only some kind of freakish spaz who can't walk outside. Meaning myself.

Fortunately, it wasn't a major break, just a fracture, so I had to wear a cast that went from my palm to my bicep, permanently sustaining my arm in a right angle, for four weeks.

The good news: I got a purple cast. Right after I got it put on, I went home, glued googly eyes on it, and named it Henry. I like to name things.

The bad news: Besides having to cover your arm with a garbage bag before taking a shower, wearing a cast makes it extremely difficult to bowl with one's friends.

Case in Point:
And regardless of how bad one's friends are at bowling, that doesn't keep you from feeling like a failure when you bowl a whopping 35.