I honestly don't know how I survive the hazards of daily life.

Let me begin by telling you that I'm short.

SO short, that once upon a time when I was skinny, I could by my jeans in the Juniors section, and even if I bought the Short length, they'd still drag the ground, which is how my mother ended up calling me Smurf for the REST OF MY NATURAL LIFE.

I digress. This post is not about Smurves, mothers, or jeans.

It's about a heating pad.

I needed it, to prep a patient for an IV. So I went to the lab to get it.

There it was. At the very back of the highest shelf. Miles above my smurfy head.

The shorter of the two lab girls - slightly shorter than me, even! - laced her fingers together as if to give me a boost. Not for a second did she think I'd actually try it.

Not for a second did I hesitate.

I'd like to blame it on the earliness of the hour, or the unfinished state of my first soda of the day, but let's be real here - I'm just a great pile of derp. I grabbed the counter, placed my foot on her interlaced hands, and attmpted to launch myself skyward.

I must have made some kind of progress, because as I fell back down I whacked my ass on the edge of the counter which is slightly above waist-high to me. I grabbed the shelf under my target shelf to stabilize myself, somehow managing to not strew its contents all over me, my poor assistant, and the lab. We were miraculously unharmed.

The heating pad was unsurprisingly un-grabbed.

It was not my best day ever.