It was all my fault, really!

I have a black eye. (Not quite a black eye, but I really did whack the hell out of it and it should be black, but it did open at the outer corner and bleed/scab a little)

As I was going to bed last night my very long day (and several beers) were weighing heavily on my coordination. I was attempting to lie down and place the phone next to the bed on the nightstand at the same time. Unfortunately I over corrected towards the nightstand and... well, whacked the hell out of my eye.

As I was laying there I thought to myself in my weary and slightly drunken state that my mother would think Joe had hit me. Now, there's no reason for her to suspect that, and my clumsiness is well known sober or not. But I couldn't get that fear out of my mind. (Along with a mental image of a terribly impressive shiner, which is why I'm so disappointed it's only sore and slightly scabby)

Luckily my vision is fine, and I have no shiner with which to frighten the people at DFS when I re-apply for Jack's Medicaid. (I mentioned we were poor right?)
At any rate, it was the good story that almost was, but is now a very poor anecdote.

The End.