December 2, 2008
Whoops! It's December already!
Hello, December! December, the month I wanted to spend writing each and every day and now it's only five hours into the second day of the month and already I have failed. AWESOME!! What shoes accompany failure, you think?
Yesterday I meant to write a very long chatty travelogue of my trip to London -- I spent Thanksgiving weekend over the pond with all those cute accents -- but today I am going in for some kind of special X-ray on my leg which is purple from pulling some muscle from some other thing and really, today it's so much more fun to tell you how I got this injury which will explain perhaps why I am not, nor will I ever be, a great athlete. Or even a bad one.
I injured myself by walking across the street.
Yes, folks! That is how I felt a pop -- just like the day I was running for the bus a week or two ago -- only this time I saw stars and wondered if I had somehow been shot while walking to the Victoria tube station. It was so strange. I was not kung-fu fighting, I wasn't doing pirate swaggers after three liters of wine, I wasn't even doing my ridiculously dorky laurieperydance which is a weird combo of the white-girl cabbage patch and the samba roll. No, it was just my fine talent for WALKING that caused a great bodily injury. Anyway I tried to ignore it and walk it off because vacation! Walk it off, soldier, we have art to see and french fries to eat! And then Sunday night when I got home from my 1,000 hour plane ride I took off my knee socks and noticed one leg looked as if it were still wearing a black and purple argyle sock. Boy that is so sexy!
So yesterday instead of writing I waited at my Doctor's office for fourteen hours while people around me coughed -- I hate the doctor's office, there are sick people everywhere! And tried to covertly clean the armchair I was sitting in with anti-bacterial wet wipes but people stared because they don't know the magic which is the travel-size antibacterial wet wipe, hence why they are COUGHING. But I didn't care that they caught me in mid-OCD form because they were sick! Germy! And I am perfectly well aside from having a bruise roughly the size of Rhode Island on my rapidly enlarging calf area.
Now today I get to have an ultrasound done because apparently I did not know how babies were made and my leg, as it turns out, is three months pregnant. Lord, all I can say is it is one ugly and painful baby. No really though, in all seriousness people, there is a greater reason for me writing about my leg. I need a much better story about my injury! One cannot hobble around with an elephantine purple left leg and explain it with a suave, "Oh, you know, I just hurt it when I was WALKING."
I am thinking that for the folks at work who are very business professional and always look so perfect in their pantyhose (while mine are riding down halfway between my knees and my crotch -- another story for another time perhaps) I will come up with a really good leg injury explanation story that involves bondage. No?
For random strangers maybe I'll say I was climbing over the gate to George Clooney's house and apparently the dogs and security team discourage it but isn't it funny how my bruise is kind of shaped like George Cloooney? Doesn't it look just like him? He loves me you know. I heard it from that time Elvis spoke to me.
For my friends, especially the ones who read this, let's pretend you don't already know about my natural grace and agility and let's assume I was injured during my rigorous training for the Ironman triathlon... again....
Tomorrow though, after they do all this great medical imaging and x-raying and ultrasounding and eventually tell me what I already know which is "Take two motrin and don't go ballroom dancing for a while," I plan to share with you my pictures of London including the best steak EVER and wax on and on about how the very best part of saving for a rainy day is having one in another city where everyone sounds so good with their swanky yummy accents. Travel is my favorite thing on earth.
But for now I'm going to drink coffee and come up with a way to work in a shark bite story explaining my limp. I'm certain it was very dangerous and exciting! he was a toothless shark, very rare in the English Channel, but he gummed my leg....
Posted by laurie at December 2, 2008 5:30 AM