Things That Beat Me Up

Do you find that you are often the sad recipient of violence? I do! And the list of items that try to murder me are vast and intriguing. For example! Have you ever thought to yourself as you step out of your house, "Gosh, I should do a visual sweep to ensure that there are no malcontents lurking in the shadows getting ready to pounce on me the moment I move outdoors!"

Yes? Wise.

But do you ever think, "Gosh, I should check to make sure that FLOWER OVER THERE isn't getting ready to whack me in the face with its entire body?"



No? Never happened to you? Happened to me! A flower repeatedly smacked me in the face. For serious.

Also: Ever been beaten up by a kitten? True story:











I have also, on many occasions, found myself on the losing side of a battle with a wall. On the whole, it's usually not the WALL that has it out for me -- it's generally things like "corners" or "doorways" but I've absolutely run face first into the wall proper. It's not pretty.



And then we have my old foe The Chair. The Chair and I have a long history of disdain. I kind of suspect chairs think they're better than we are and are all bent out of shape because we sit on them and they can't do a damn thing about it. So while I sit, The Chair takes it upon himself to deliver bruises all over my legs. I don't always know how the marks appear either; I sit down, things get ugly, bruises form the next day.



Of course, then The Table decides it wants in on this violent action too and before I know it, I'm whacking my knees and arms on both of them!



Doors are tricky.

At first they're sort of like a wall: mostly harmless, generally not a big deal, I can maybe manage to avoid smacking into it.





BUT THEN THEY OPEN AND SUDDENLY MY FACE IS IN DIRE PERIL. NOT EVEN THE GOOD KIND OF PERIL.

Also perilous? Wind.

I was recently out one night and after trekking up to the top of a pile of dusty dirt, I was pretty proud of myself. Little did I know that the wind had received the "beat Kate up" memo that evening.





Another tricksy item is sunscreen. At first, it's nothing -- it's even nicer than the door or the walls or the wind. It's here to SERVE ME. TO HONOR AND PROTECT ME. We should get along great!!



We're not going to get along at all.



Finally, I am shamed -- deeply, earnestly shamed -- to admit that the single biggest thing that beats me up?

Me.

I don't know what my limbs are doing at any given second. Is that elbow supposed to be inside my nose? It's just too hard to control my own movements -- I've whacked myself upside the head, in the chin, in the stomach, on my thigh... anywhere... more times than I can count.