Ok, I'm over it - almost.
Last weekend while setting up a rack I knocked over one of my all-time favourite tools - a Starrett machinists level (thanks Keeter).
I saw it begin to slide and had a drill in one hand and a hold on the ladder with the other. Instinctively I grabbed at it with my drill hand and poked a hole in my arm with the bit in the drill.
Then, I shoved out my knee - on which it managed to land edge first on my kneecap - and bounce off.
Finally, I stuck out my foot and (yep, you guessed it) again, it landed end first on the bony top of the foot just above the nicely padded top of the tongue.
It landed with a sickening crunch on the corner of the level, on a square of concrete between all the carpeted mats. The delicate vial didn't stand a chance, it shattered in pieces and the alchohol spilled out everywhere.
Of course the missus heard the not so subtle language and ran out to see what happened. I told her and, sniffing the alchohol, she told me it was my fault for drinking whilst up a ladder.
With that, my day was complete, I went inside to stop the bleeding and tend to the cuts.
Curse you Murphy! I loved that level.
Take two. At lunch today I pulled a chair over to our table for a friend and severely strained a muscle in my lower back.
These things happen in threes right? (Sigh)
Get it over with already.....