I'd be great at fighting crime. If my face was crime.

So Monday was a weird day. I had gone to bed on Sunday night with a little bit of a migraine, not the worst of its kind, but still not awesome. It was one of those migraines that is dull enough to not ruin your day, but present enough to make you want to punch yourself in the face just to give the pain some validity.

Which is exactly what I did. I punched myself in the face.

Not on purpose. Sort of.

I was sleeping, and my migraine must have strutted into my dreams and was all "HEY! EVEN THOUGH YOU'RE SLEEPING, YOU SHOULD STILL BE VERY AWARE THAT I AM HERE. I'M GONNA MAKE MYSELF A SANDWICH, K? IS THAT COOL? NO? TOO BAD. I'M DOING IT. HEY, EVEN THOUGH YOU'RE SLEEPING, I'M GONNA MAKE MYSELF THIS SANDWICH, AND WHILE I MAKE IT, I'M GOING TO SLAM EVERY CABINET DOOR - EVEN THE ONES I DON'T NEED TO OPEN IN THE FIRST PLACE - JUST BECAUSE I DON'T WANT YOU TO FORGET ABOUT ME."

In a way, I feel bad for Migraine. This is obviously just a cry for attention because he never got enough hugs as a baby migraine. Perhaps if I just accepted Migraine for who he was, we wouldn't be in this situation at all... huh.

Either way, I didn't accept Migraine, so he was being a douche and because he was being a douche, I decided, in my dreamy state of defense, to punch him in the face.

Turns out that his face is my face.I'D BE GREAT AT FIGHTING CRIME......IF

I woke up just in time to realize that my own fist was rocketing toward my face, but without enough time to do anything about it.

Obviously, I texted my bestbian, who calls herself "John Hamm" on this blog, about this situation:

Me: I punched myself in the face while I was sleeping last night.

JH: ...what?

Me: Yup. Right in the eyeball.

JH: How do you know? Do you have a black eye?

Me: No, thank God, but I woke up when it happened.

JH: Omg I'm trying so hard not to laugh.

She loves me.

You'd think this is where the story ends. One would obviously assume that this is the only bad thing that someone's face would endure in one day.

So let's fast-forward to the end of the day, when I get home from work early because Snowmageddon2015 was about to hit Connecticut.

Monday was trash day, conveniently enough, so I got out of my car and thought to myself "Gee, I should probably bring in the trash can and the recycling bin so that they don't get buried in the snow at the end of the driveway..." and then I high-fived myself for being a responsible, forward-thinking adult and headed down the driveway to retrieve said trash can and recycling bin.

It is important to note here that my driveway is at an incline and I was wearing impractical footwear.

So, I'm dragging the trash can behind me, through the already sort of deep snow, and I've got the recycling bin in front of me as I limp-scoot my way up the hill towards the house.

Me: I slipped bringing in the trash cans and bashed my chin on the recycling bin. This has not been a good day for my face.

JH: Oh my gosh, just go inside and put on padding.

Me: There are so many corners in here!!

JH: We're gonna have to child proof your apartment.