This post is dedicated to myself so you all can pity me. Once again, my story takes place on Mount Timpanogos.

We rested at the lake near the top. The sun shined overhead, and there was a fresh breeze flowing along. I sat down on a rock and leaned back taking in the beautiful scene. The lake was crystal clear, and there was not a cloud in the sky. It was all perfect. But nothing stays perfect for long. Suddenly, the rock that I was sitting on fell backwards, directly on top of my hand. I did not even feel the pain for a few seconds, but it came sure as day. I scrambled to push the rock off my poor fingers. When I did, I was met with a bloody mess that was my pinkie finger. It was clearly broken, but thankfully I never leave home without my handy-dandy band-aids (the cure for any ailment imaginable). I slapped one on and finished the hike without another problem.

Moral of this story: always carry band-aids.

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