July's pretty far away, huh?

It's winter. Wisconsin has frozen over, and there's snow and Christmas lights and cold air and grumbles across the land. WAAAAH. IT'S COLLLLLD. I WANT SUMMER! I'M MOVING! OMG! THE TERRORISTS HAVE WON!

I mean. Sometimes those grumbles are coming from me, but mostly I embrace winter. I do. I like the change in seasons. I like the snow. I like running in the winter. And we all know I love me some Christmastime. I have, however, had a rough go at this winter shit already.

Let's rewind a couple weeks. The scene: me, on my balcony, a mess of tangled Christmas lights in hand. I was hellbent on wrapping those damn lights around the rail of my balcony. Approximately 70-hundred minutes later, once the strand of 42,306 lights was untangled, I thought it'd be a good idea to plug 'em in and test 'em out.



They didn't work.

You're kidding me, right? Because I'm going to kill someone in a minute here. Like, actually kill. Did you SEE how hard I worked to untangle this shit? DID. YOU. SEE. QUESTION MARK.

But I quickly found the problem -- a shattered bulb. My blood pressure decreased as I realized the simple (and solvable) problem I had before me. I grabbed a replacement bulb and without thinking, and because clearly I'm still a toddler and the first thing I do with foreign objects is put them in my mouth, I did just that. Put the bulb -- exposed wire and all -- in my mouth, with the intentions of pulling the bad bulb out with my teeth.





And that's how I electrocuted myself on my balcony.

Did I learn from my mistake? After brushing off the shock -- literally -- and collecting myself? Seeing as how the very next thing I did was pinch the EXPOSED WIRE between my thumb and forefinger in an attempt to yank it out, no. No, turns out I WILL NEVER LEARN. Not ever. Not even once. With a quick singe and smell of burnt flesh, I had myself a couple electrocuted fingers.

You guys. It's like I was watching this happen to myself from outside my body. Is this real life? Am I really this stupid? UNPLUG THEM! UNPLUG THE GODDAMN LIGHTS! I screamed. YOU IDIOT. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? I quit! I quit you! I don't want to BE you anymore!

Eventually I unplugged the lights. Removed the bulb the way a normal, safety-conscious person might, and now I have pretty, pretty lights shining on my balcony. But not without frying my pride.

This brings us to Saturday morning. Snow was falling, several inches had accumulated on the ground. First thing I want to do is run in it. So I meet a friend downtown and we have a fairly adventurous run, until my foot slips right out from under me and I collapse flat onto my back, catching myself only with the outside edge of my right elbow and my head.

And you guys, I've got a pretty thick head, but YOU try catching yourself and all the weight that comes with you WITH YOUR HEAD. Turns out I survived. Somehow. Dusted myself off. Shook my head a little. Made sure I still had a head, and we decided to call it quits and head home. About three feet from her apartment building, I miss a curb -- thanks to the snow -- and fall flat on my face.


This, friends, is the story of how I quit running, quit Christmas and quit living outside of a padded room until next summer.