This morning, I recieved the following email from Kaytlyn:
(or, The Escapades of Addison)
This is a public service announcement, written in the hopes of making the general public aware of the true nature of Addison’s
mishapsescapades . It has recently been brought to my attention that there is some doubt as to the frequency and severity of “Addison’s AccidentsÃ¢â€žÂ¢”; I would like to clear up any confusion or misunderstanding.
I admit that, at first, I found it shocking that anyone could possibly not realize what causes myself (and my in-laws before me) so much stress and worry. However, the longer I sat and considered it, the more I came upon the realization that this young man’s follies really are almost to the point beyond belief. A piece of scaffolding through the back? A chisel through the hand? A broken neck? Hit by a minivan? These are meant to be fictitious tales read about in novels, not factual happenings regaled by exasperated relatives. Or so we thought.
This morning we both awake to the sound of a blaring digital alarm clock. We open our eyes and are met with darkness.
“Turn on the light,” I half grumble through my exhaustion. Muttering an incoherent syllable of agreement, Addison pulls himself out of bed and reaches forward to turn on the large ceramic lamp perched atop the dresser.
Addison falls back to the bed, clutching the side of his face and moaning. The lamp lays, cracked in half, in the middle of the floor. I panic.
“Oh my GOD!” I say, grabbing his shoulder gently. “Are you bleeding?!”
“Nooooo…” More moaning. “It landed on my face.”
That’s right, folks. In an attempt to merely flick a light switch on, he managed to pull the entire thing onto his head. Want to hear the kicker?
Click! He flicks the light on from its broken position on the floor. We’re illuminated.
That’s correct: He did not break the light bulb. He broke a giant hollow ceramic base, and he broke his face, but not the bulb.
So now my lovely fiancÃƒÂ©e’s face is marred at the top of his nose by a large red lump, highlighted by a fine red line running horizontally across said lump. The real beauty is the shiner he gave himself – the swelled and blood bruised lower eyelid. It looks as though I’ve been pounding on him.
So there you have it. Further evidence to prove just how worrisome Life With Addison truly can be.
I’m surprised he has gone this long without hurting himself.