No Use Crying Over Spilled Blue Paint

One glorious, sunny morning as singing birds gathered outside of my window, I went into the kitchen for a glass of water. Carelessly, I swung open the cabinet door whacking myself in the forehead; the impact sent me reeling backwards through the open basement door and down the steps with a repeated thud. I landed underneath a shelf which had been loosened by my fall overturning an entire bucket of blue latex paint which was now steadily flowing on top of my head. After a moment, I stood up feeling dizzy; everything was a swirl of blurry blue. Without realizing, I reached out towards my wood burning stove (I thought it was a support beam) trying to brace myself. Scream. Pain. Smell of flesh burning. Instantly I ran towards the sink for some cool water relief, but instead stepped on a poorly placed rake which slapped me in the face upon its swift upright positioning. Stumbling out of the back basement door, I bumped my knee on a circular saw as I made my way into the backyard; which incidentally is a field of cacti. Predictably, within moments, I had cactus pricks all over my body. That's when I noticed that at some point I had managed to get a glass jar stuck on my left hand. Pain was all I knew as I blindly tripped over a tricycle into a murky, alligator infested swamp. I sat up, wiped the mud from my face, clearing my vision just in time to see the alligator with its open jaw. Somehow my shirt was on fire. All in all, it was still the best day I had had all week.