about an hour ago i went upstairs with my soon-to-be new boss to a storage area where we were supposed to check on the presence of very important (!) wooden planks we need to reconfigure the way a certain hall and the magazines therein will look.
the place is dark and abandoned, with boards criss-crossing the ceiling and sometimes hanging askew for reasons that have probably a lot to do with ww2, or stupidity, or both.
my coworker and i spot a few of the much-sought for planks in a corner and i suggest we go get them to measure them up.
"it's best to go get a flashlight first," he replies, "we risk breaking our neck in the dark." but of course i have to say "ah, who cares!" and start walking towards the far corner.
the metal board (so basically this forum) hanging from the ceiling hits me squarely in the forehead and i slip and fall backwards. "i'm fine," i say, then the room starts spinning - counterclockwise, for the connoisseur - and i touch my head and there's plenty of blood flowing down into my eyes.
so an ambulance gets called in a totally unnecessary agitated hurry, i'm brought downstairs into my office, and finally about ten minutes ago a plump doctor decides i just cut myself under my scalp and i should be ok in a few minutes.
"do you think you're experiencing loss of memory?" she goes at some point, and i say "unfortunately not", and she frowns, but ultimately decides head cuts are not supposed to make you sarcastic in any form or way.
this week is only halfway through and it's already been quite eventful when it comes to personal physical damage. let's see what's next!