Erica Lucke Dean

"Making the world a better place, one book at a time."

I don’t think this is what they meant by “drawing straws”

Chaos all around me, and I can still manage to find time to be tragically clumsy.  Or maybe I just have amazingly bad luck.  Either way you look at it, I am cursed. 

I don’t even know how I managed to do this…my husband seems to think it was my own fault, drinking and driving (not that kind of drinking and driving mind you)…but somehow I jammed a straw into the deep recesses of my throat cutting myself, and creating a now slightly infected injury.  Yesterday, when it happened, it seemed as if it was just a mild inconvenience.  A slight irritation.  But today, it hurts to swallow, drink, eat, talk, or just sit quietly for that matter. 

I tried in vain to convince my husband that I wasn’t actually driving when this occurred.  I was in a parked car, attempting to put the straw into my cup when something went terribly awry.  I remember ripping the paper from one end of the straw and placing it in my mouth while I pulled the paper the rest of the way off.  I have done this at least a million times before without incident.  But in the middle of everything going on in my life right now, I chose this time to stab myself (nearly slicing the uvula from my throat) just slightly to the left of my tonsils. 

I’ll survive.  Not just the straw injury, but everything else too.  I may not be exactly the same when I come out on the other side, but change is inevitable.  And some change is good.  Of course, I didn’t mean change as in a self-inflicted tonsillectomy, but maybe my luck isn’t all that bad after all.

Until the next time…I’ll be going through a bag of throat lozenges!

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