Mama’s nose

Where did that glass door come from? I could have sworn it was open. Oh, that’s just another piece of glass there for show? Right. Thanks. My nose and its new scar really appreciate the optical illusion.

“But why wasn’t there a doorknob?” my son asked when I explained why I had a cut on my nose (from my glasses bridge) and a bruise under my eye. Good question. I guess there was, but it was vertical, on the side of the brand new glass door instead of horizontal in front where it would hit an unsuspecting person’s belly before her face.

I’ve never run into something with that much force before. It hurt. I bled all over. And I look stupid and have even less motivation than before to get out of my pajamas. Did I mention that the reason for me going to this building I’ve been to a million times before it got its facelift and snazzy new invisible doors was to attend the grand opening of the new location of a holistic medi spa and maybe win a door prize for some great beauty or relaxation treatment? The owner was a sweetheart who got me ice and called me the next morning to check on me.

So, less than a week later, when I get the call from the preschool teacher that my son had some funky physics with a rock that somehow clocked him and gave him some nose bleeding, I just have to ask the universe what the hell is going on? At least he knows his mom got through an unhappy nose job; so can he.