Except I don’t right now, because I still don’t have any information about my insurance policy. My lack of crazy pills, in combination with the dreaded crimson wave, (yeah, I did totally just go all Clueless on you. You’re welcome.) has resulted in my crying ALL THE FUCKING TIME FOR NO FUCKING REASON AND ALSO FOR VERY GOOD REASONS so the update of the things that are ruining my life right now is going to have to wait. Instead, I will tell you about my lovely labor day weekend and then something of the Tuesday that was the first domino in the THIS WEEK MUST BE THE WORST EVER IN ALL SPACE AND TIME FOR MELS, BECAUSE IT IS SO FUCKING FUNNY WHEN SHE SUFFERS jenga game. (yeah, I know that’s a mixed metaphor. DEAL WITH IT.)
Weekend: was a nigh perfect 3-day weekend. Very little was done, good times were had. The Boy picked me up Friday night and we went to his place to nerd nerdily. (I kinda don’t remember what we did; I think Boston Legal and Doctor Who were watched, and beer was consumed, but that was sort of most of the weekend, so I can’t say for certain that it happened Friday. Oh! I did laundry! That happened Friday!) We slept ridiculously late on Saturday morning. (Seriously, I woke at like 9 to go to the bathroom and was like “2 hours more, and I’ll be good” and then like FOUR AND A HALF HOURS LATER we woke up again.) We headed back to my place to take care of some stuff, then to Annapolis to take care of some errands, and finally to The Shore, where my parents and some of their friends were celebrating their 39th wedding anniversary by being hilariously drunk (not to be confused with sloppily drunk or embarrassingly drunk). The Boy and I skipped being drunk at all (though we each had a beer. But we apparently missed out on the homebrew that was so strong, 12 ounces of it put my father in a stupor for the afternoon.) Around 11, the old folks not staying at The Shore left because they are all in their 60s and drank potent alcomahols all day, and thus they needed their sleep. Mom fed me some delicious food, and repeatedly offered to let The Boy and I stay at the shore because of the weather (rain, and scant fog, although mom seemed to think we were re-enacting The Mist before the dinosaurs show up), but we finally extracted ourselves when mom’s desire for sleep finally beat out her desire to Tell Us Things about growing up at The Shore and they kicked us out. (The fact that we had been trying and failing to leave for 15 minutes was lost on Ye Olde Drunkiese). We slept at The Boy’s place again, and Sunday was similarly lazy, except I got up at 10, and spent a good chunk of the day devouring books 4 and 5 of the October Daye series by Seanan McGuire while he slept/video gamed. Sometime well after dinner, we went to my place, reminded my cats who we are, and sacked out. On Monday he took me grocery shopping, and then I Cooked Food (roast beef, because at this point my bank balance still looked like after rent I would have tons of money even if I paid extra on all my bills, and sweet potatoes, which I have discovered I like as long as they are not confectioned up with extra sweet stuff) and was lazy.
Tuesday: I’ve been keeping the cats out of the bedroom at night, even though they aren’t as much of a danger to my leg as they were earlier this summer, because I liked being able to keep a glass of water or juice at my bedside and finding a) no cat hair in it in the morning and b) that the level of liquid had not changed due to anyone not me (either by kitty drinking or knocking things over). Tuesday morning, they stormed the castle gates and zoomed in when I got up to pee. When, instead of feeding them after emptying my bladder, I returned to my bedroom, they expressed their disappointment by redecorating my room with broken glass and fruit punch. Since the pillows, pillowcases, fitted sheet, mattress pad cover thingy, and bedskirt are all white (I *asked* for a black bedskirt for christmas, but I got a white one instead. it’s very pretty, but I can only assume mom was having some sort of Me-related amnesia when she bought it, because I lived with her on and off for like 28 years and she knows I am a clumsy slob even without kitty assistance) and the carpeting is a light beige color, and they were all splashed if not soaked, this was a problem. I’ve spilled the fruit punch on the carpet before–it is impossible to get out. I got the cats out, picked up the pieces of glass, and got a quick shower in. Then I filled the bathtub with warm water, oxy clean, and bleach, and put all the Not-Pillows-Or-Carpeting items that had been stained in there, too.
Unfortunately, since that takes time, I was faced with a dilemma. See, Sm’Ak took this week off, taking advantage of her last chance to stay-cate before Christmas (it’s the last week of the August recess at work). I was planning on taking the metro (which, I knew, would suck, but because of meetings and things, my boss wanted me to avoid telecommuting if at all possible. Which makes sense, because it’s REALLY HARD to telecommute and actually, you know, work.) I could take the bus to the station, and the train to another station, and then scooter .6 miles to my building, making me 120-150 minutes late to work, or I could ignore medical advice and drive myself, making me 20 minutes late. I chose the latter. (and then since it went so well I drove in yesterday, but last night my leg was sore and I couldn’t tell if it was muscle soreness or OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK TIBIA and FIBULA DON’T PLAY DAT soreness so I decided to not drive today, but I slept a little late and it’s storming and I said fuck it, I’m driving.)
So that was Tuesday morning. Tuesday afternoon is another story. And tomorrow I’m FINALLY going to talk about the things I’ve learned about human behavior during the two months I’ve been crutching and scooting around.