I’ve fallen down wooden stairs, concrete stairs, and carpeted stairs. I’ve even fallen UP stairs, while carrying hot chocolate that flew into the air and landed on the back of my head at the end. All of these things happened. I wouldn’t lie to you. You simply can’t make up how dumb I am.
I’ve slammed my hand in a hot oven door, and my head in a baby grand piano. I sprained my knee when I was 12, sprained the other when I was 19, and re-sprained them both more than once. Two of the times were by tripping on nothing.
I’ve had allergic reactions to a variety of things, some that made sense and others that didn’t. I’m partially deaf in my left ear, and after my college X-rays found no wisdom teeth, I grew two rogue wisdom teeth in my late 20s. Just for kicks, I guess! Like the game Operation, I can only assume there are more things undiscovered in my body as of yet, like butterflies in my stomach or a literal wrench inside my ankle.
I’m convinced that someday I’ll die of sheer irony. It’ll be something so incredibly minor, like a stubbed toe. A paper cut. “Here lies Anna. Striking her funny bone on a towel rack did her in. Nobody won the bet. Everyone loses. RIP.”