Last night, C was over. I told him how much I was looking forward to the new comic, because the plot is really interesting right now. Plus, the comic is a couple of days late, which means that the extra-large full-color "Sunday" comic was scheduled for today. He teased me, saying he didn't think it would be coming out today.
Just after midnight, I was brushing my teeth while C was re-loading the Sluggy page. "I was right: there's no new Sluggy today," he called to me. I thought for sure he was just messing with me. I gave a mock-horrified cry, and came rushing into the den to see for myself.
In a snowballing series of events, I somehow misjudged my path, perhaps because I'd just taken out my contact lenses. I managed to bang my wrist on the doorjam as I came running in. I hit it hard enough that it popped my watchband open, and the watch went flying across the room and underneath C's feet. I immediately bent down to retrieve it, forgetting that my knee is still sore and it hurts it (a lot!) to squat all the way down and put my full weight on it. I yelped in pain, then collapsed in a crumpled heap underneath the desk, whimpering and laughing.
A broken watch, a sore wrist, an even-more-sore knee, and not even a new Sluggy comic to ease my suffering! Quite the evening. At least C was able to fix my watch.