Found these photos of the loft in which I lived a few years ago and was instantly reminded me of how I'd hit my head each. and. every. damned. day.
The only solace I get now is knowing my ex-bf hit his more often. *snort*
There is a beam in the kitchen that has this evil steel section that extends out from it. I always knew it was there, of course, but I forgot and OMG ow, ow, ow.
The Drama Queen was supposed to get padding or something from Home Depot to keep us from getting a concussion but he never did. 
Evil beam ... 
You know what's really funny? I was going to a knit group with a couple of new galpals and we stopped to pick up another gal who would be joining us. We all live in the same general area. The new gal bought this very loft in which I'd lived. It is a small, incestuous world ... wonder if she bangs the shit outta her head on that damned thing?
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