Door of Doom

What do you see when you look at this picture?

Most people would probably say they see an average refrigerator, maybe some cat treats on top or the Ove Glove lovingly hung on the side. But I am not most people, and when I look at this picture I see two things:

1) An arctic abode to house my beloved eats and drinks

2) An evil ninja-like appliance of pain that’s plotting against me 

Let me explain.

The other day I was preparing for some couchgating and enthusiastically threw open the door to the refrigerator to grab some hippie fare. However, in my enthusiasm, I neglected to realize I was enthusiastically throwing open the freezer door and slammed the damn thing into my head.

It was a direct hit.

A drive-by dooring, so to speak.

I was knocked to the floor—not because I lost consciousness as my head enthusiastically stopped the door’s momentum, but because I stumbled backward and tripped on the cat.

As I sat on the floor I noticed three things:

1) Several grains of uncooked rice remained under the cupboard ledge on the floor from when I spilled it—never sneeze while measuring it out–which leads me to believe I need to sit down with the dust buster and re-evaluate it’s job description.

2) The cat was not helpful in this situation a la Lassie in fetching me ice, but was instead alternating exasperated glances between the treat bags on top of the fridge and my stunned skinny ass on the floor.

Noted, my feline friend. Noted.

3) I suddenly saw two fridges in front of me, which initially excited me — two fridges full of goodies!— until I realized it was because of the pain.

I gingerly stood up, made my way to the mirror and found a dark bruise and two-inch lump on my forehead. If it had happened a week later right before Halloween, I would have been thrilled. Easy costume! But seeing as I still had a week to wait, I knew that I needed a story that wasn’t so lame.

I thought perhaps I could say I was saving a kitten stranded in a tree and bumped my head while bending over to perform CPR, but given my abusive relationship with gravity, I knew that nobody would buy it.

Considering everyone knows how the small woodland creatures in my yard show a blatant disrespect for my authority, I figured a wrestling match with a squirrel just might fly.

But I think I could take a squirrel, so I moved on to using a bear or a cougar. However, bears aren’t that common and I didn’t want people to think I meant “cougar” like a horny old woman, as that would completely change the context of this injury, among other things.

So I settled on a badger. If anyone asks, I was wresting a badger…to save a kitten from a horny old woman.

And when you think about it, my actions — or at least my delusions about my actions —were really quite heroic, no?

Anyway, once I settled on a story I decided I should put some ice on my throbbing head, only to realize the irony of the fact that the ice was in the freezer—the scene of the crime! But I thought of the kitten I could have saved and threw open the freezer door—slightly less enthusiastically this time—and numbed out the pain for a bit.

At least I think that’s what I did.

The details are fuzzy.

Damn badger.

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