I slammed my head into a chair. It hurt. A lot.

So last night the dog ran outside, which she wasn’t supposed to do.

I chased her, and she moved. I chased her again, she moved some more.

Finally, she stopped, and I bent down to grab her when—POP!

No, not POP!


My forehead slammed into the top of a wood chair, and it hurt like a … well, like a piece of wood pummeling your forehead. I snapped back, reached for my skin and felt blood trickling. Lots of blood. So I yelled at the dog to come inside (this tactic worked far better than chasing her), then entered the bathroom. Blood was all over the place, so I plugged up the wound with some tissues, found a Band-Aid and applied it to the opening.

Now, I’m on my 23rd hour of mild-to-severe headache.

Maybe it’s a concussion. I don’t believe so, because I’ve got no other symptoms. But it hurt and it sucks and now I’m probably branded with an eternal forehead scar that screams to the world, BUY A GUINEA PIG.


Her fault