How I Broke My Butt

Yes, it's true. My tailbone is broken. Or fractured. The doctors didn't want to x-ray it because the course of treatment is the same either way.

But that's not the real news. You want to hear how it happened, don't you?

Yesterday was Kevin's day off. He was in the backyard doing some gardening (not something I help with, any signs of green in my thumbs have withered and died) and Rachelle was playing alongside him. So I decided to sit in the hammock in the mid-morning breeze on our patio. I observed out loud that the outside edges of the hammock were frayed from the most recent tropical storm, but upon further inspection of the center section of the hammock, I deemed it structurally sound. I rested peacefully, enjoying birdsong and rustling leaves, when a new sound caught my attention. It was the sound of ripping hammock behind me. I sat up quickly, so as to make a hasty retreat from the hammock, but I was not fast enough. Just as I sat up straight, the hammock tore off the stand, and I fell straight down onto the oversized hand screws holding the frame together below me. (Insert fat joke here.) I collapsed on the ground in agony, sobbing pathetically for several minutes. Kevin helped me up and I went inside to lay down. The pain was excruciating.

It still is. And the bruise is certainly blogworthy, but also indecent. I'll leave it to your imagination. And do feel free to say something about my broke @$$.