Since I kinda dropped off the face of the earth this week, I feel I owe my readers (all two of you) an explanation as to my absence. What follows is an account of my hellish week. Names have not been changed to protect the innocent because none of you fools are innocent. I had a bad week and now EVERYONE MUST PAY!!!
I will pick up exactly where I left you on the last blog- Sunday afternoon. I had gone to church so I was feeling happy and holy and had no idea of the storm that was headed my way...
I was hanging out with my favorite 6 month old Hudson and we decided (it was his idea really) to take a long walk on a gorgeous afternoon. The walk went ok (and by "ok" I mean I had to stop twice to remove him from the stroller because he was screaming and people were staring, i had to chase his stroller down a sidewalk when it started rolling backward down a hill, and I drove him into a bush one time- in the context of the week that followed, it was a lovely walk) and I returned home with only tired legs to complain of.
The next day at work (Monday if I already lost you), I would stand up from my desk and a pain would shoot thru my left foot and ankle so sharply that it forced me back into my seat. I didn't worry about it too much (it's not like i really WANTED to work anyway) until i found myself barely able to walk to my car after work. I spent the night sitting on my bed scanning pictures (if you haven't heard, this is my new HUGE project i have given myself) with a heating pad on my sad ankle.
Thinking the rest had fixed my gimp, I headed to work on Tuesday only to find that I had to basically drag my bum leg up the hill. Melody made me go see a sports med doc (i guess there really are no excuses not to see a doctor when you work at campus health) and my foot and ankle got squeezed and squished and poked and prodded and then the verdict was announced- tendonitis.
Ok- I'm not even sure i know what tendonitis is, but it sounds like arthritis and arthritis means OLD (ref. Heather dictionary). With my 26th birthday fast approaching (may 6th- I want gifts), this was all just poor timing...
"But what caused the tendonitis?" I questioned the doctor. I mean, I haven't biked or skated in awhile and I can't remember the last time I did gymnastics or jumped off things for fun- so what could it be? "You probably overdid it during your walk on Sunday." was his answer.
Let's think about this. I have been hobbling my ass around Campus Health for 2 days and when I finally get confirmation that something really IS wrong with my foot, I want to explain to my coworkers that I wasn't just being whiney all week and what can I say but,
"I hurt my foot walking...
with a baby...
in a stroller."?
Ummm, can't I just say I dropkicked some girl in a bar fight?
The doctor told me to stay off my foot as much as I could, so Tuesday night I was back in bed scanning more pictures.
I decided to officially rest my foot on Wednesday (this might be a good time to interject that I am moving next Wednesday, so at this point in the story I have exactly one week to pack up my whole apartment and get this place clean and ready for inspection- and I'm in bed), so I stayed home and- you guessed it- scanned pictures. The picture scanning was not without drama of its own though. While going thru pictures of myself from high school and college, I came to the realization that I do not currently look puffy because my hair is shorter (the story I use to console myself while i wolf down a bag of doritos), I look puffy because i AM getting puffy- there I said it! And not only am I getting puffy, but scanning pictures of people I try hard not to think about only caused my subconscious to jump on the bandwagon and I started DREAMING about the people I don't want to think about, so now I am waking up in a HORRIBLE mood!
I decided that being home alone was doing more damage to me than all the walking would do to my foot, so Thursday I headed back to work. It appeared that my luck was beginning to turn around when I received a request for an interview for grad school. We made the appointment for next Wednesday (anybody see a problem with this? ya, I didn't either.) at the exact same time I had an appointment to sign the papers for the townhouse. Did I really expect anything more?
By the time I got to small group on Thursday night, I wasn't exactly spreading sunshine, so Heather offered up some white chocolate liquor which I gladly accepted (What? You don't drink liquor at Bible study? Perhaps you should join mine...). Things were beginning to look ok again when I got a phone call (these are the moments in the movie when you scream at the character "Don't answer the phone!" because you know the other shoe is about to drop, but the poor helpless sap doesn't have a clue).
So I answered the phone (wink) and my roommate informed me that my dogs had escaped from their crate and had destroyed my room (as I typed that last sentence Oreo leaped on the bed and began licking the screen, obviously still apologetic for her bad behavior). I returned home to find a) two very happy dogs and b) a hole in my wall accented by fur and slobber.
Let's review again. I'm moving in LESS THAN A WEEK and this is the only apartment I have ever lived in that did not bear the marks of my dogs- Oreo ate the carpet out of my first apartment and Pat shat (yup, that's the past tense of "shit") all over a textured wall in the next one.
And now the hole.
Oh yes- I forgot to mention that on Thursday I realized I had maxed out my credit card, so now I am in debt up to my eyeballs and I can't put the charges for a busted up apartment on my credit card. (Last night I realized that I have NOT maxed out my credit card. It was apparently a website error, but it caused significant panic on Thursday)
Not gonna lie- I didn't handle things well. I screamed and cursed and pouted and cried and my dogs and roommates all hid from me. Then I fixed the crate and went to bed.
And by "fixed" I mean that when I came home from work on Friday afternoon, Pat was sleeping on my pillow- Oreo was in the crate being pissed off.
I don't remember much else about yesterday- I think my mind went into self-preservation mode. I vaguely remember that while I was inspecting the crate to see exactly how my canine Houdini made his second escape, I noticed a distinct chirping sound coming from one of the three smoke detectors that Lauren and I have between our rooms. We took turns taking the batteries out of the smoke detectors, trying to disable the chirper, and finally realized that all the batteries had been removed and not one, but TWO of the bastards were still going off! THREE phone calls to the office later (I wasn't playing- I threatened to disable all our detectors if we didn't get help), the chirping stopped.
One trip to Wal-Mart and sixteen automotive clamps later (my mom suggested putting one on each corner of the crate, but I thought that sixteen was a better number), my dogs stopped escaping.
The blog ends here not because my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week ended but because you are now caught up to 4:19pm on Saturday afternoon and nothing bad has happened while I wrote this blog.
Keeping my fingers crossed...
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