I am continually amazed at my lack of coordination and how often cooking results in serious injury for me.

One such memorable example was when I sliced my face open with a crystal vase. Ok, I’m being a little over-dramatic. It wasn’t so much my entire face, as it was my chin.

I was about to dump out the nasty left-over flower water (aka sludge) from my crystal vase into the backyard. But, this was summer. At night. This meant that opening the back door into the yard was going to have to be clandestine operation to avoid the ranks of mosquitos, moths, and other various avian insects from attacking my face like a scene from Birds. Furthermore, this appeared to be the mating season of the little lime-green frogs that hang out on our back windows, and I didn’t want them bringing their activies inside. They’re very cute, but I prefer to look at them with the safety of a double-paned window in between. So, with caution, I turned off the lights (to not attract any visitors), and I reached for the door to the porch.

In doing so, I made sure to focus on the two green frogs positioned near the door knob. I’m not afraid of frogs, but I had visions of them jumping on me as I opened the door, so I wanted to open the door as little as I could. With the vase in my left hand, I reached for the knob with my right, kept my eyes on the frogs, and proceded to cautiously open the door.

At that very moment, two copulating fairy bugs flew directly into my face, and what should have been a knee-jerk reaction became an “elbow-jerk” reaction. With my right hand still on the knob, my left hand forgot that there was a crystal vase attached to it, and it tried to swat the fairy bugs from my face. I jammed the vase into my chin.

I screamed. Somehow I managed to carefully place the vase back on the counter and close the door, aborting the plan altogether. My husband comes running to me from the living room, and my explanation of what happened barely elicited a comforting reaction from him:

“I hit myself with the vase.”
“Why? How?”
“Bugs were flying at me.”
“That’s ridiculous. I can’t believe you’re that afraid of bugs. Good grief, Erin.”
“(sniffle) You don’t understand!” (Insert exasperation). “Nevermind!”

I went to the bathroom mirror, and that’s when the waterworks turned on. I had a large bruise developing with a one-inch gash directly on my chin. I was afraid I needed stiches, but I was more afraid to explain to the doctors that I had been attacked by two copulating fairy bugs and a vase. I simply put ice on it and a lovely Pocahontas band-aid.