In Candyland, grace is something to be earned, not expected

So, we had a little accident here in Candyland.

Let me preface this by saying I am:
a) clumsy
b) overly anxious all the time
c) feels rushed 99.9% of my life
d) not the best with sharp objects

The night started as any other. The little one laid down to sleep, the hubs was in the front room fiddling with his iPhone and Candyland was preparing for a relaxing bubble bath to lull her to sleep. Okay, so this isn't a typical night, obviously, but it was set to be a good one.

I enjoy baths. A lot. And yaaknow, ladies sometimes rid themselves of excess hair with something called a razor. I ran out of the good ones. I only had a thin double-bladed piece of shizz. But I thought, what the hey.

Do you see where this is headed...

Fast forward ten minutes and a bloodied towel later.

Yes, I'm that girl. The one who can't be trusted with sharp, metal objects. It didn't hurt as bad as it looks, but (and not to gross you out) my leg still bleeds as I type this. It just won't stop. It's NAST. So with that, friends, tell me...any household accidents lately? I can't be the only spazz.

Candyland. OUT.