The skin broke, and now it shows right through.

For the first time in many years, I have a black eye. I’m currently hiding in my office, trying to put off the inevitable co-worker reactions for as long as possible... At least until I finish my coffee. It’s definitely going to make an impression, as people in my office (and in my field, really) are not generally in the habit of sporting big black shiners in and around the office as they toil away.

And if only it were just a blackened, swollen eye socket. But no. I’m also sporting a nicely torn up face, as well as a bandaged hand (my right one of course, since I’m right handed) which is making the most basic office tasks seem difficult and tedious.

I’ve considered a handful of scenarios with which to explain away how I might have arrived at my current battered state, but I have yet to settle on any one definitively. Abusive relationship. Gay bashing. Ultimate frisbee accident... All have been met with mixtures of surprise and concern when tested on various subjects. But I’ve noticed one thing: when you enter a social situation on a Sunday night/Monday morning with a swollen and blackened eye and face, some people immediately assume you’ve had a very good weekend, while others assume you’ve had a pretty fucking horrible one. Kind of like the whole glass half full/half empty thing. Seriously. I encourage you to give it a try. You’ll gain some insight into your nearest and dearest.

All in all, it was a good weekend. The glass is definitely half full.