sure. wait. what?

I MADE a clumsy maneuver over the weekend that resulted in a plump blood blister under one of my toes. I was supposed to join my friends at the bouldering gym that day, but of course I had to cancel last minute. Oh well.

The blister wasn’t too bad. It was a little swollen but was otherwise free of pus, and the dusky bubble of blood remained fully intact beneath a small bulge of skin. Still, I didn’t think putting weight on my toes while climbing up a rocky wall was the best idea, so I sat out on bouldering.

L and I instead went to a escape room with two of our friends who were also complaining about some minor physical ailments. We picked the one room that was closest and available, and the theme happened to be about being captured by a serial killer. We needed to free ourselves from the serial killer’s lair before the killer gets back in an hour.

The host brought us to the first room where the challenge would begin. The room was dark, and the walls had (fake) blood and graffiti on them. There were two jail cells in the room, and the vibe was definitely giving Serial Killer’s Dingy-ass Basement.

Before the host left and locked us in, he gave each of us a flashlight. He handcuffed two people together to a chair, and he locked the other two people separately in the jail cells. I was one of the people who got locked in a cell. It was eerie, I must say, especially with the howling (fake) wind and the distant (fake) cries playing in the background.

My brain normally shrinks to the size of a walnut whenever I need to solve puzzles in front of other people. Surprisingly though, I did pretty well that day. I got myself out of the cell pretty quickly. I deciphered a few problems, I made helpful suggestions, and I stepped back when needed. All of us did.

We worked well as a team, which made the experience a lot of fun. It was so fun that one of us had already started looking into the next escape room to try. (We’re thinking of doing a Friends-themed room for Friendsgiving, hah.)

Speaking of Friendsgiving, wow – we’re on the last stretch of August. Soon it will be autumn again. Then winter. Then new year. Dang.

Earlier I was thinking about how I don’t consider myself an overthinker. I’m more like an over-worrier, which isn’t quite the same as an overthinker, I don’t think.

Like now, for instance, I realize that summer is almost over and I worry: What if the rest of the year doesn’t go well? What if I get stuck in a dark room and I don’t escape it? What if I get blood blisters week after week after week?

Ah, I gotta chill.

The blister is healing. It’s mostly flat now, but it does look gnarly like an overgrown tumorous mole. Still, I can walk straight without having to flex up my toes. I can swim. I can probably climb this weekend if I wish to.

Boo-boos happen. Boo-boos heal. Just take it easy, Self, won’t you?