What's the last bit about locking myself out of the house with Jake in the van? I have one-upped myself. I locked Jake and I in their bedroom last week. This meant I climbed out the bedroom window. Not exactly an easy task since the windows are high on the wall. Great for privacy. Bad for needing to break out of your own house, especially since the windows are just as high on the outside.
I'm hanging onto the windowsill with Jake gleefully watching along when I realized I hadn't a clue how far I should jump and where exactly the basement window well was located. I eased up a bit only to break the well covering. A slight move to the right and I dropped down. During all of this, I could feel the brick digging into my arms and stomach.
Dusting myself off, I look at my arms. They're scraped in several places along with my stomach. Not even a week later, the bruises are turning yellow thanks to copious amounts of Hippie Goo slathered on. Half of my right arm is a giant bruise. The scrap near my elbow hurts from cellulitis. Fortunately I haven't visited the ER for more drugs since it's not spreading.
Sadly, my friends are not surprised I've done this. Nor am I.
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