So you know those times in life when you make a series of decisions that lead to a single moment that sort of define where you’re at in life at any given time? And then when that big moment finally occurs you’re like “What the f was I thinking?” Yeah, that happens to me quite regularly, but this weekend sort of took the 2013 cake thus far.
Oh don’t worry, forthcoming months, there’s plenty of time to top my previous poor choices, and so your horse is still in the race.
Anyway, the day started off something like this: bagel and coffee, followed by approximately 93 minutes of petting my cat while watching a “Golden Girls” marathon on TVLand, followed by very detailed list-making so I could maximize my time spent in public without running into anyone I knew (because I hadn’t showered and wasn’t planning on scheduling that into my day), all leading up to the divine crescendo that involved doing laundry and then immediately putting on a fresh-out-of-the-dryer sweatshirt and watching a terrible romantic comedy on Encore or something. It was going to be glorious and I’d been looking forward to this day all week.
Which, if we’re paying attention, is incredibly depressing.
So it all started off great, especially because the morning was pretty dreary and rainy and overall just a great excuse to stay inside with your cat. However, as the morning gave way to the afternoon, the rain stopped, the sun tried coming out once or twice, and it was time for me to get this party started. And what better way to run around town than to throw on some sparkly flip flops, not bring an umbrella, and generally just throw caution to the wind because you’re just that breezy? That’s right. There are a number of better ways to do all of that. But this isn’t your story, so be quiet.
Anyway, I must admit that I was feeling pretty good. It’s a rare moment that I actually get to spend a whole afternoon just taking care of business, with an evening of pizza and going to bed early in front of me. So when I made the casual and aforementioned breezy decision to try to cross four lanes of traffic against the light in my flip flops as it started to rain, I was feeling tremendous about this day I’d laid out for myself.
However, in a shocking twist of events, life soon taught me that, in effect, I was a pretty poor decision-maker and for that, I must be punished.
So just as I was making my way halfway across the street to the median, my flip flop threatened to fly off, causing me to work overtime to keep it on while also trying not to get hit by an oncoming car, causing my ankle to turn and, I think, come right off of my leg, rendering me motionless for what felt like several seconds as two more cars came barreling towards me.
It was good times.
Luckily, I was able to hobble myself onto the median, grabbing a baby tree with one hand while clutching my throbbing ankle with the other, just letting the pain-tears flow down my face for all of New Jersey to see. And in that moment, I actually half-expected to see a bone or something sticking out of the side of my foot because I was for sure that this was the most pain any human had ever felt without being involved in some sort of hand-to-hand combat mission or something.
Also, sometimes when I’m injured, my brain becomes hyper-dramatic and feels overly sorry for itself before snapping back to reality.
And when I say “reality,” I mean “then deciding that the best cure for a sprain or potential fracture is to ‘walk it off.’” Of course, walking it off meant that I had to actually get some sensation back into my foot first, but after a few minutes, the sensation of pain was very vivid and I was able to walk with only medium-to-a lot of pain.
However, in my defense (which I say to CB a lot and then get corrected that it’s actually not a defense at all), I did consider just calling a cab and having it take me the mile and a half back home. But then I remembered that I’m a warrior (and an idiot) and decided to soldier on and do the Walk of Pain myself. And somehow, using my vast medical knowledge and, again, good decision-making, figured that walking would actually help?
Oh my God I know, you guys.
Two hours later I sent this text message to my parents.
|Also, do I have witch feet? Wtf?|
Which prompted a phone call from them on speaker phone, wondering aloud how I’ve made it this far in life without, you know, dying.
Mom: Are you ok?
Me: Yeah, I’m totally fine…it’s just painful if I put any pressure on it. Or sit here.
Dad: It’s possible that you might find yourself on crutches over this.
Me: What? No….
Mom: Yes. It’s possible that it’s broken, so you might want to consider getting an x-ray.
Dad: And at another time in the future, we’ll discuss you running errands in flip flops. And then running while wearing them in the rain. But that’s a conversation for another day.
Anyway, I’m totally fine after an evening of icing, elevation, and overall feeling sorry for myself and my inability to make adult life choices properly. And then a second day spent at CB’s parent’s house where CB went to CVS for a bandage, fed me Advil, and generally got up and down, conservatively, one thousand times each time I needed more ice or I’d decided that the pillow my leg was resting on wasn’t comfortable.
Life with me is a joy.
Happy Monday, everyone!