My chicken coop hates me....

OK, all I really want to know is how I can go through building a whole house without sustaining an injury and have had THREE while building the chicken coop. Well, injury is a strong word but I am hurting like the dickens. They were all pretty much my own fault due to my inert capability to be clumsy, off balance and in the wrong place at the wrong time. A few weeks ago we were starting to shingle the roof and I somehow stepped on a nail that was protruding from a 2x4(which by the way, I have measured and they aren't 2" x4" and that bothers me, why not call it what it is???) The nail went through my industrial strength Croc, and about 3/8" into the sole of my foot. That wasn't so bad. I was due for a tetnus shot anyway. Got that taken care of.
Just last week, I wasn't even working on the coop, merely walking out the door and stepped in the tines of a metal work rake and the danged handle swung up and hit me in the head! DON'T LAUGH AT ME!! That smarted and for a minute the world was a bit fuzzy. It had hit me right above the temple- how does it get that much force from moving a foot? What really makes this story funny though, is that the same thing had happened to Hans back in Cedar. I think it was fall, we were trying to get the yard cleaned up and had to give up early on account of two "helping" little boys, so Hans was frustrated anyway. We walked by the crabapple tree in front where the devious rake was hiding among the low lying limbs, and I had turned my head to check where Hiett was behind me when there was a dull thud. At that precise moment I coughed(oblivious to the fact that my poor hubby had been sideswiped by a 50 mile an hour rake handle) and Hans thought I was laughing at his misfortune. He yelled- the only time he has EVER yelled at me our entire marriage- DON'T YOU LAUGH AT ME! I, surprised, said that I hadn't and asked what happened. And then, once he had told me- I did laugh. Poor thing. His rake had hit him right on the ear, and his ear swelled and bruised like a beggar. Now I know his pain, and I would have yelled at him too, if he would have dared laugh at me. Luckly nobody saw my clumsy error of stepping in the wrong spot.
Unfortunatley, there were witnesses to last night's accident. I was working on siding the wall of the coop that faces the road, Hans was up on the roof finishing the shingles and the ladder was innocently propped against the wall where it should have been. We didn't take into account out crazy gray mutt winding and twining her rope in and around the bottom of the ladder. Two teenage boys walked past and Tonks(who has recently begun a "Watchdog of the Year" campaign) starts growling and barking to alert us on the intruders. Suddenly she lunged to try to get to the boys and lovely... she took the bottom of the ladder with her. The other end of the ladder fell directly onto my head before I could move. Can I say ow. My head still hurts this morning. I'm glad for the politeness of the two boys that at least held in laughter until they had gotten out of earshot. So. Now you all have proof, as if you needed it, that I am one clumsy, unlucky person when it comes to chicken coops.