I think my body is going on strike. My fine motor skills are leering at me from a safe distance, mocking every bruise and scrape I acquire from their absence. Maybe they aren't feeling appreciated enough. Fine Motor Skills, if you are out there - you are very, very fine, very appreciated, and very missed. Please come back... I promise I won't take you for granted again.
I started out this morning with a bang. I have been trying to get back into exercising, and most of that is done on my bedroom floor on a 4x8 foot strip of carpet. I got a little too enthusiastic this morning, and when I rolled back to start doing crunches *wham* I misjudged the space and my head came down on the metal rim of my mushroom chair.
Then, I was in my parent's room talking with Mom and decided to head down stairs to make dinner. As I came around my parent's bed, the last two toes on my foot decided to get to know the wooden leg of the foot board better. The relationship ended badly.
To finish off the night, I was trying to take a photo of my Nutella cookies, and my fingers just gave up. It was as if some muscular liberator had shouted, "Phalanges, be free!" They obeyed... I feel so betrayed. I trusted them. Thankfully, my camera didn't break, but I sure scared the cookies to death.
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