Yesterday, during a heated three-hour Cambridge Wow marathon, nature called. Luckily, that's a level of challenge I'm about up to coping with, and I pulled off the whole operation with militiary precision. However, when it came to actually leaving the room, I hit a small snag. You see, it seems that to go through a door you first have to open it, and while this is usually a reasonably simple task it's always best to check that the lump of wood you just pulled on actually moved before you step forwards. Otherwise, you get a door in the face.
I got a door in the face, and a small cut above my eyebrow to prove it. But the scary part came today, when I got home and mentioned the incident to my dad. It seems that he sustained a remarkably similar injury in remarkably similar circumstances, very possibly with a remarkably similar door. If there's one thing I never expected to discover about myself, it's that I have a genetic predisposition to walking into doors.
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