If you don't see the flickr or the twitter or the facebook, I fell down a flight of stairs at work yesterday. (Also, I probably should cut back on my social networking sites) It was the stupidest thing... I was wearing a pair of black, chunkier heels, got my left heel caught on my right pant leg cuff about 1/4 of the way down and just tumbled. The good news is that nothing's broken, sprained or anything else. I'm just bruised. I had my hands in or around the handrails when I started to tumble and I tried (really hard, if my soreness today is any indication) to haul myself up and regain my balance, so I didn't hit my head.

The best, the BEST part is that I fell right by the head of the company's office, so both he and his assistant came running out to see what was going on (as did half of my department and some actors from the rehearsal room next door). He accused someone in my department of pushing me down the stairs (jokingly) and made a comment about the henna on my hand before realizing I was pretty much OK and wandering off. Despite assurances that I was fine, they called in the paramedics (we always have some on site, due to the large number of people running in and out). They threw some ice packs on me, took my blood pressure (when I said that the rate was high for me, they pointed out that I had, in fact, just fallen down the stairs), made sure I didn't have head trauma, wasn't in shock and could walk, and then told me that I'd be sore tomorrow. They asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital and I declined (and had to sign a form refusing medical treatment. Fun). I figured that falling down stairs was a good excuse to leave early, so I got the OK from the boss, called stentoriansista to pick me up and limped homeward, where I proceeded to ice everything for a while.

Final tally is that both knees are bruised, as are both shins. My left shoulder (not great before this hullabaloo) is killing me, and my back is level of 'moved some heavy boxes' sore. I took a couple of Advil PM again last night (the itchies are still pretty itchy), so I'm still pretty tired. My low abs are super sore (they were sore from pilates yesterday, so it might be residual from that, I'm not sure).

Also, is it weird that my response to trauma was to be starving and sleepy?

walking by the big construction project across from the GW Hospital at Foggy Bottom Metro

Me: That sure is a great big hole!
Me: It's probably for parking.
Me: Who are you talking to?
Me: What?

Did I mention I said this all out loud?

coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee AAAHHHH! KEYS!!! coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee Gosh, I'm hyper coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee KEYS! KEYS! RUN AROUND SCREAMING CRAZY! coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee.

This can't be good.

I'm writing catchy titles and blurbs for our silent auction items for the catalogue. One is Russian caviar and vodka.

I suppose I can't do "IN SOVIET RUSSIA, VODKA DRINKS YOU!" can I?

In other news, oh the nausea. Stupid chicken 'n' dumplins.

Coming in to work today, I slipped and fell on some black ice. In the middle of an intersection. I landed on my knee. It was one of those where I got up, got out of the road and then took a minute to see if I was gonna cry (I didn't). Coming soon to my right kneecap... a FREAKING HUGE BRUISE!!!

Let's see, weekend recap... Thursday, I went home after work to work on the GF's valentine's present (otherwise known as the Thinggummer's Thing), which I completed. Hooray! No one has fawned over the entry I made on stitch-witch, so I post it for you here:
( Read more... )
Isn't he cute?! I'm totally in love with the finished product. Went to the doctor on Friday, which was a giant game of "what will insurance cover?" My last physical was 10 months ago, so insurance might not cover that! I wanted to get something checked in my bloodwork, but insurance might not cover that! How about checking my iron count, because stentoriansista thinks I'm anemic? Insurance won't cover that either! (They'll check my platelet levels which is the same thing? I guess?). Stopped at Whole Foods and picked up the bare minimum of groceries, went home, ate lunch and then CLEANED LIKE THERE WAS NO TOMORROW. I vacuumed. I changed my sheets. I dusted. I filed financial papers. I did my taxes. All of that good stuff. (By the way, it's really disturbing to dust your room on Friday and realize on Sunday night that there's already a fine layer of dust on everything) I spun a little yarn which is being extremely problematic and too airy, so the spinning wheel may go away soon.

Headed over to stentoriansista's, where we had lentil-y food and swapped belated valentines. I gave her Ned (the owl above) and she gave me a lovely clutch purse and her old iPod (squeeee!!!!!) and an iPod holder that she'd embroidered a skull & crossbones on (double squeee!!!!!). Watched Bubba Hotep (AWESOME!).

Saturday was kind of lazy - stentoriansista had to go to Ballston for work-things, so we went and hung out at murky coffee- she did school reading and I read magazines. Wandered over to IKEA, where she got awardrobe, I got a TV stand and mel21clc got as-is Christmas lights. Went to some Italian place for dinner and made an early night of it.

So, now I'm sitting here at work with my sore knee, watching everyone in creation come in, despite the fact that it is Presidents Day and everybody in the office aside from me has the day off. Whatever, losers.

So, I just reread Dangerous Angels by Francesca Lia Block. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it - it's a series of short novels all centered around Weetzie Bat, a young filmmaker in LA, compressed into a larger book. It's a series of lovely, romantic, lyrical books that combine magical realism with the pain of real life and they're just fucking beautiful.

Reading them always makes me a little sad. The characters are startlingly real and harsh in their emotions, but that's not what always gives me a little pang of regret when I read them. The characters have their flaws, their problems, their magic... and there's something about them that I know I can never be. They're all beautiful, mysterious and skinny.

Now, the GF constantly reassures me that I'm pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, stunning. I give her orgasms. It's part of the deal. And while I'm a lovely person, silly and (hopefully) funny and witty, I'm certainly not mysterious. Hell, I wouldn't have a livejournal if I wanted that. Reading descriptions of these magical vegetarians who are always eating and who are always skin and bones, I know it's something I could never be. I don't know, even if I get myself down to a size 8, which I know will never happen (at least, not healthily), I'm sure I'll still think of myself of fat and unworthy of anyone's affection.

And magic? For some reason, I've always known that's for someone that's never worn pants in my size. Maybe it's because of things like the ridiculous wife prancing around in fairy wings on Wife Swap the other week, or because the most ridiculous pagans I've met have always been large, or because the most compelling ones have always had dress sizes in the single digits, or even shit like Practical Magic but I've always had this thought in the back of my head that the reason that I've never had the Profound Mystical Experience I keep expecting to happen is due to my waist.

Which is not to say that I devalue my religion or that it devalues me or that I hate myself because of my size. I've been having issues the whole pagan thing because I've been unwilling to spend the time to focus on it... which reminds me that I had a really powerful dream on Thursday that I need to recap. I prided myself so much on being "special" when I was younger... I was smart, I was a writer, I was going to Mean Something to the world. And then I grew up a bit and I realized that yes, I'm smart, but everyone seems to be much smarter, I'm a good writer, but not when compared to the professional writing world and the things that I love are conventional and not Meaningful and I'm not changing the world the way I was so sure I'd do. In other words, I'm having a huge Avenue Q moment.

It just makes me sad to reread these books that have these beautiful, powerful heroines who overcome adverse odds and make their own magic and think that that's a kind of magic that I will never have, because I'm not one of the beautiful people. The world doesn't sit up and take notice you if you're a size 14 the way it does if you look like a supermodel. Not when Norbit makes the most money at the box office and Tyra Banks is attacked for gaining 30 pounds. I'm never going to be one of the special, beautiful, magical people. It's hard to love yourself when the world refuses to even recognize yourself as a person, sometimes. I try to pretend that it doesn't bother me, but it does.

So, I'm taking tomorrow off because I'm getting a temporary crown and a cavity filled and fun times at the dentist!

This should be over by noon (I hope) and I should get home by 12:30-1, so here is my list of plans for the rest of the day.
( I can see your eyes glazing over already... )
This may all fall by the wayside in favor of me sitting on the couch and giggling (Percoset). But I'm most decidedly NOT SPINNING. I was going to start working on the Thinggummer's Thing last night, but I was thisclose to finishing spinning the purple stuff... so I did. Then I plied it. Then I skeined it. Then it was 1am. Oops.

In other news of my sheer brilliance, I set my alarm for 8:01pm last night. I also brought my last two servings of casserole to work with me today, completely forgetting that one was to be my dinner. Luckily, I keep at least one package of Whole Foods mac 'n' cheese on hand at all times.

I already really, really do not want to go to step class tonight. But dammit, I am going!

So, have I mentioned lately I'm an idiot? I'm an idiot.

I got some nair the other day. Today, I dyed my hair and did a could other girly things. Rinsed out the hair dye and decided to give the nair a shot. Left it on for a few minutes, looked like it was coming off, rinsed off the nair using my hands, stepped back into the water, rinsed out my hair again and GAH! GAH! NAIR INFESTED HANDS IN HAIR!

So far the are no giant bald clumps. Or even some medium sized bald clumps. Also, I didn't wait long enough, so half of my legs are hairy, half are not. Le sigh.

ETA: Gah! And have somehow ripped up my thumb. So much for having nice hands for the wedding. I haven't even started packing yet. Packing... oh look! A dangerous polar bear!

Panic panic panic.

I am, in fact, going a little crazy in my head right now. Just the various 'OK, what needs to go to California?' and 'what's going to happen in California?' and 'OMG what if my parents don't like the GF EEEEEEEE!' and all of that. Because, I don't know. It's a little scary right now, plus my body has been wonky and unhappy all day and add some job stress to that and I am about to bust. out of my skin.

I have a very bad habit of worrying about things that are completely out of my control. I'm there now. I think I may make a nice nest. Perhaps some window boxes.

And I leave in an hour and pick up my dress and then I'm going home to pack and not watch SotU and I think I may have to drink a lot of that beer I bought on Saturday because EEEEEEE!

The mice are back. I just saw one. IN MY ROOM.

I fucking hate everyone right now.

ETA: Yanno, this wasn't what I meant when I talked about wanting to live in harmony with nature. Also, my room? Really? Why? WHY? Sure, it's closest to the front door and the garage, but there's not any food in here! Unless you count a bunch of empty diet coke cans. Ew! EW EW EW! GO AWAY, MR. MOUSIE!!

ETA II: Christ, how girly am I? Guilty.

There's a little song I'd like to sing about today. It goes "I hate everyone, I hate everyone, I hate every single one of you, oh I hate hate hate! eeeeev eeeer eeeee one! (ba dump bump!)"

OK, it's more that I hate making decisions, especially difficult ones where someone is going to be hurt/annoyed with me no matter what I do, and why can't I seem to grow a fucking backbone already?

Ahem. I... er... Oh look! A dangerous polar bear! ::scuttles off::

So, Serenity was playing at Arlington Draft House last night, so I did what any good browncoat would do... I got stentoriansista and mel21clc and three tickets and went to see it.

While there, I started working on my Jaywalkers for my dad for Christmas. It's 4 days away and I finished turning the hell right before the movie started. I didn't want to try to pick up 38 stitches in the dark, so I put it back in its bag and stuck it in my purse.

Or so I thought, until I went home and found it missing. A frantic phone call later, yes, they had it and I can come pick it up tonight. I am so mad at myself. Yeah, it's fine, but it means I have to metro, then bus there later on tonight, which will be a pain and take time away from packing... which, granted, won't take that long. This isn't the first time I've pulled this shit either.

Ugh. I'm just glad it didn't end up in the garbage somehow.

Also, I hate that I have no scale because I never know if my bags will be over 50 pounds or not. This is the only reason I would consider having a scale.

Right, so Friday was the worst. I'm actually surprised I didn't cry.

Went to the grocery store and went kind of crazy. Bought $90 worth of groceries - y'all, it's a big dal when I spend over $60. In this group there were 3 bottles of wine, 2 bottles of seltzer, 1 1/2 gallon egg nog, 1 1/2 gallon apple cider, 1 7 pound chicken, 1 pound ground beef, 1 pot roast, 12 pack of Diet Coke, 2 kinds of stuffing, vegetables and a partridge in a pear tree.

So, this was a very hefty grocery load. Loaded it all into my grocery cart and started heading home. Now, we're talking about a donkey like this, except mine was craptastic (hey, I had a coupon). The wheels in the front were screwed on and constantly fell off. I lost the screwcap for one and tried to rig something up with duct tape which a) didn't work and b) ruined the threads on the wheel so that it didn't work even when I got a replacement nut. So, I just push back and wheel home using the back two wheels. Except that I make it about half a block and notice the back wheels are bowing out in a way that is Not Good. I stopped about three times to try to fix it, none of which work. And every time I push, the wheels give off black marks on the sidewalk.

I finally rig up a way that I can actually carry everything home without incident - holding by the front right corner and pulling keeps it somewhat level. Until I get about halfway home and...
( This happens... )
Yeah. That would be the back wheels snapping off completely from the cart. I'm a 10 minute walk from my house and I have probably 50 pounds of groceries.

I stood there for a good 5 minutes, trying to figure out what to do next. In the end, I just decided to leave the cart there and carry everything home. So, I get everything and get maybe a block before I am ready to kill someone, as I am carrying 5 bags of very heavy things and a 12-er of Diet Coke. So, I stop, take a minute, rearrange everything and continue staggering forward. Then work calls me. I stop, pick of the phone, shedding groceries, kind of yell and hang up. Rearrange yet again and stagger forward. Someone else calls. I ignore them and press on. This works for maybe another block, then I give up. Completely. I stash the Diet Coke and the smallest bag of groceries behind a pillar and lurch the remaining two blocks home. I make it there and drop everything. At this point, it is 50 minutes after I left the grocery store. This walk normally takes 20, tops.

I then, of course, turn straight back around and head out again. The groceries I left at the pillar are undisturbed. I head back to the abandoned grocery cart, pick it up and drag it about a block to Already Read Used Books, who are nice enough to let me stash this useless piece of metal in their dumpster, I continue home and put all my groceries away.

My shoulders are still sore.

Luckily, stentoriansista is the shibby, so instead of cooking her dinner, we went out for chili and then out to AC Moore, which is right next to a Bed, Bath & Beyond. I now have a grocery cart that does not suck and the wheels will not fall off.

So, Roommate set up a couple of humane traps in the kitchen and then left to go see her boyfriend in La Plata. A couple hours later, I hear a thwack. Now, Roommate said that they're easy to spring, so I go upstairs, find the locked trap and start to open it when I see a tail. Oh look, a mouse. And I'm the only one home. Fun times.

So, I take the trap, put it in a bag (because I'm just. that. squeamish), walk a couple of blocks, upend the trap, fumble with it a few times to get it to actually stay open, it does, and I upend the trap and out falls the mouse. It didn't move and I hope it was just stunned by the moving around and the fall or just scared. If not, hey, there's a dead mouse for some owl to eat.

Either way, this is not on my list of things I want to do again in the near future. I mean, ew. Not as bad as dead squirrel, though creepier in the whole 'ZOMG WHAT IF IT BREAKS OUT OF THE TRAP AND EATS ME' way.

When I left the house to run to the grocery store this afternoon, I noticed something. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, it was a lovely day out... and there was a dead squirrel on my driveway.

"Hmm..." I thought. "Maybe it's just sleeping. Upside down. With flies on it. I'll run off to the grocery store and maybe it'll be magically gone when I come back. After all, there are cats in this neighborhood."

Back from the grocery store and, alas, the squirrel is still there. So are the flies. OK, I'll call animal control. Surely they'll want to take it away and test it for rabies and that sort of thing. I leave a message and they immediately call back. "You have a dead squirrel? Just double bag it and throw it in your garbage."

There are two kinds of people in this world - those who would pick up a dead squirrel and those who would make their roommates do it. Curse the fact that I am the first kind. People are uncomfortable when faced with a reminder of their own mortality, especially when that reminder is a rodent currently rotting in the sun on their property.

So, I grab 4 grocery bags (they say double bag, I say quadruple bag). I put my shoes on and I open the garage door. For about 10 minutes, all I can do is go "eew! eew! eew!" while holding the bags and walking towards and then away from the squirrel. OK, you can do this, you can do this, just pick up the squirrel using the bags as gloves... EW EW EW EW EW OH GODS NO! OK, OK, so I can't pick it up. Can't do it. Maybe something can pick it up for me? Maybe? Hey, I've got a shovel! In the garage! Oh sweet, shovel, pick up the squirrel for me!

Then I find a dustpan. OK, better than a shovel. I get close enough to the squirrel to see its teeth. OMG OMG OMG OMG WHAT IF IT COMES ALIVE AND KILLS ME! It could happen! Slide the dustpan under the squirrel, pick it up, throw in in the two bags, tie them shut, put those bags in other bags, tie them shut, throw them in the garbage can. Which is completely empty. I hope that someone remembers to put that out on Tuesday.

Then I did another eew omg eew dance. Then I started watching Judging Amy. Which, for some reason, is in Spanish on my TV.