Well, the camping trip was a success. I managed to come home wearing my last pair of dry socks and with only a minor concussion.

I am such an idiot.

We were packing up camp on Sunday and I went back into the barn to close it up. I turned off all the lights and went to lock the front door when I realized that the back door was still open. So I went back through the barn and dead bolted the back door, and suddenly there I am all by myself in a dark barn. I could tell where the front door was because a crack of light was coming through, so I headed for the crack, forgetting about the support poles in the middle of the barn. I walked right into one, and smacked my face good and hard. I even saw that cartoony sort of red and yellow Pow! (Now that I am somewhat distanced from the actual event, I am a little disappointed that there were no cartoon birds flying around my head). My glasses went flying off my face and I dropped the barn keys, so now I was standing in a dark barn with no glasses and an owie face. I felt just like Velma. I skirted around the area where I thought my glasses were so I didn’t step on them, fumbled around for the light and went back for my glasses and keys. My glasses were totally bent up (so now in addition to being held together with tea bags and super glue, they sit crooked on my face – I am trying to start a new fashion trend) so I straightened them out as best I could and then bent over to pick up the keys. That was when the nice big bloop of blood dropped from my head to the floor. Until then I hadn’t realized I was bleeding. Knowing that with a head wound, you can’t really feel how bad it is, I whipped off my shirt and applied pressure (like a good Cub Scout should). It turned out not to be too terrible – it stopped bleeding pretty quickly and my friend T bandaged me right up. But I felt like a total ass having to explain to the kids what I’d just done. I downplayed it to them, and made light of the situation (“Hey guys – I’ve just learned that when you turn the lights off in the barn, the support poles are still there”) but I knew I was not in great shape. I was really tired from camping so I wasn’t sure until the next day that I really had a concussion and wasn’t just sleepy. I had a good two days of feeling light headed and tired and like I just couldn’t quite make my brain go. I still feel a little funny from time to time, like I am wearing a hat that’s a little too tight and things are sometimes more confusing than I know they should be. But I am no danger to myself or anyone else so I am just trying to go about my business and rest when I can. I have a nice pretty band-aid on my forehead to remind me not to be stupid. Some might even say that it was Nanabush himself who turned into a pole to teach me a lesson. Silly Nanabush. Couldn’t he have come up with a way that didn’t involve potential scarring?

+++++++++++

Recently, I was googling myself (minds out of the gutter, please) and, given the recent interest I've taken up in her, in an interesting Kevin Bacon-esque kind of twisty turny thing I've found a reference to a book entitled "Go To Helena Handbasket", written by what one reviewer claims to be "The Dorothy Parker of Scotland".

Another sign pointing me in Dorothy's direction.

I also found someone on myspace using my name, which would be a problem except that she's got the Billie Holiday version of "The Very Thought of You" playing on her site, so she's obviously cool.

But still.

And yet another Helena has a site called shittyhaiku, some of which is actually about shit.

Clearly, I am in good company.

Reading:
Kevin Smith's blog

Hearing:
Currently doing the Black 47-Scissor Sisters-OKGO shuffle.

Needing:
Lunch

In My Car CD Player:
I don't recall. Is that the concussion talking or do I not have anything in there? See what I mean?