I am Danger Girl; where's my damn cape?

I had another little mishap with glass, my old nemesis, last night.  It wasn't very pretty and this time I decided to drive to the ER (I didn't last time; ended up taking massive antibiotics only to find out I was allergic to Penicillin which really messed my system up, it took months for me to feel healthy again). 6 stitches, a very sore ass and bruised ego.  Fun.

Am I accident prone?  I remember my dad having lots of these "mishaps" as I was growing up.  I'm a lot like him.  I think it comes from not paying attention to our own good sense and trying to do too much at one time.  Last night, I showed some of my photography at Arnold's downtown.  I drove home, stopped to get a bottle of wine (no, it wasn't the wine bottle this time), got out of my car and attempted to carry the wine, all 9 of my glass framed photos and my 25-lb camera bag into the house.  Common sense was dictating in my brain "take TWO trips" but did I listen?  Nah.  My front stoop is small, probably around 4 feet wide by 3 feet deep - with 3 steps.  I have a heavy old wooden screen door which sticks.  Pull on the door, lose my grip, step backwards - to nothing there - with a 25 lb bag on my back.  Physics apply here.  I go down backwards with a whole lot of glass following me. To the camera bag's credit - I didn't lose one lens or damage my camera (it's an Emera bag) and it broke my fall a bit.  But one of the glass frames broke and ended up lodging in my outer wrist.  It's been almost a year since my last encounter with "laceration" and when I looked into the cut, made an instant decision to listen to the inner voice screaming "Emergency Room".  See? I can be taught. I'm just stubborn about it.

So the packing will go slower today.  With a wee bit more deliberation in my thought process. Glass is sharp, flesh wounds bleed, bones can break.  I need to be more careful with me.