OK, so one of my favorite blogs to read, Hungry Runner Girl , does a thing on Tuesdays called Triple Tangent Tuesday where she shares three random facts about herself. Of course, I could never steal that away from her, but it popped into my head today when I was thinking about my past three days….or what I like to refer to as my triple tangent of trauma.

Let me explain.

I really truly believe this horror began on Friday with me running over that scary and terrifying snake. Actually, if I’m including that fun-filled event, this would actually be more like my quadruple quadrant of chaos….but that doesn’t work as well, and I’m not gonna count it.

Anyway…..on Saturday I went to Wells Fargo to deposit some cash at the ATM. Imagine, if you will, how close you pull up to the machine in order to reach it. What’s the worst thing that could happen? That’s right; I drop my ATM card and it rolls under my Pathfinder. I look in the rear view and see a line of cars behind me, so I can’t back up. I contemplated pulling forward but I was worried the next guy would pull up before I could tell him to stop! Instead, I have to open my door the two inches that I have and try to squeeeeeeeeze through. After I miraculously accomplish this feat, I have to somehow crawl under my car and grab my card….all while the line of cars watches me. Of course, after I succeed with all of these monumental feats, I still have to complete the transaction.

Fail.

Then, on Sunday, against my better judgement, I took Tals to the dog park, knowing that it sleeted all night and it would probably be a muddy mess. I figure she needed the run, I needed to clear my head, so I wasn’t super concerned about a little mud….until I slipped while walking up this steep hill and full on fell on my stomach. I’m talking mud all over my face, my chest, my legs, EVERYWHERE!

Fail #2.

And for my final act, I went to get my blood drawn today. Now, this is always an ordeal with me because I have tiny microscopic veins. Unfortunately, because I’m young, healthy, and athletic, the needle people always think that they will be the ones who cure me of my baby vein syndrome. Really, this typically involves me getting poked and prodded for a good 30 minutes before they finally give up. Today, it only involves two needles and two separate attacks before they sent in the big guns. These guns I refer to came in the form of a very pleasant woman named Sue who really liked to drop F-bombs (which I found very odd for a phlebotomist, but whatever floats your boat, I guess!) After turning me every which way, analyzing my arms and my hands, smacking on my skin, making me squeeze a ball, and calling over a few other women to analyze the inner workings of my blood canals, she finally came up with a solution to my problem. After disappearing for a few minutes, she came back with two rubber gloves filled with hot water. She put one under my hand, one under my elbow, and massaged my skin while the heat drew my blood down. I FINALLY got the blood in the vial and hightailed it out of there…pretty sure I’m never getting my blood drawn again actually. What a debacle.

Fail #3.