Admittedly, it was because I was trying to move two of them at once and therefore was pulling one instead of merely pushing it as I'm supposed to do for safety reasons.
(So like, you don't ram your ankle with it, apparently......)
(But don't worry, I popped in on the newest training class right when they were discussing that and totally help instill the fear of flesh mauling carts. I figure it kinda cancels out my lack of proper safety procedure, right?)
My grievous ankle smashing injury occurred right as the refrigerated truck delivery was being unloaded (hence why I'd been hurriedly moving two flat beds at once, in preparation of it), and therefore I didn't stop to closely examine my ankle beyond muttering curses under my breath about how much it had hurt.
As it's not the first time I've come home with a bruised ankle from a similar incident, it just didn't register as something overly noteworthy happening.
Except that this time, I managed to draw blood.
But I didn't realize I was bleeding, and went right about pushing out all the stuff that had been on the truck.
Which was very physically demanding, and included actions like squatting.
Which is how I managed to smear ankle blood all over the backside of my khaki capris.
|Me and my Micaela.|
Yep, it's good to have friends who are powerful. And also female, and therefore fully understanding of the statement "I need new pants".