Knots in the Cartwheel
I would like for you to know that the bloody, blue-ish knot on my foot is due to a cartwheel.
When I went to train yesterday I was slightly tired because I was getting over a cold so I didn’t feel like I worked as hard as usual. But then I got home and was revived by some sort of weird second wind, and decided to do cartwheels in my bedroom. I don’t really remember making a decision, actually: Suddenly I was just doing cartwheels back and forth and it was all good. Well, I must have drifted a little close to one end of the room because at about cartwheel 10 or 11, on the way down, my extended, nicely pointed foot slammed into my vanity on the way to the floor. The impact scattered makeup and wonder-toxin beauty vials everywhere, leaving me laid up with a bloody sock and picking my blush and eye shadow out of the trashcan.
I went to take some photos of my foot because it’s all pretty damn funny in that I didn’t actually break anything such as in the time I broke my finger playing nerf basketball in my parents’ bedroom, or think I broke anything such as in the time I injured my rib fending off attackers. Like I said I went to take some photos, but then my camera, (which once I thought was broken but only needed new batteries,) I found is actually broken despite having new batteries. The screen only shows me squiggly lines.
I tried to win a new digital camera online. I didn’t win.
Blast.
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