Like an hour ago, I took a shower. Not a big deal. I’ve been taking showers for quite a few years all ready. And by myself. So I get out of the shower and I turn the water off. Or at least I try to. So here I am in a towel with no seeing utensils like my glasses trying to figure out how to turn off the water. If you remember last fall or spring… it was last year sometime, I had an issue where I am fixing my towel holder in a towel. I have a feeling that this, fixing things in the bathroom in a towel, will be a trend in my life forever. So anyway. This was an excellent time to remember that I never learned where to shut off the water in my parents’ home and both my parents are out of town today. So I call my mother, I call my father, I call my brother’s house and I finally call my sister-in-law’s cell. My brother picks up and until I started talking to him, I remember he’s out of town too with my sister-in-law. So I go “ummm, the shower won’t stop.” “What do you mean the shower won’t stop?” “Well the faucet…it’s like puking water and I can’t stop it and I don’t know what to do.” And I know my brother is on the other end of the line face palming it because who says that the faucet is puking water, that’s the job of a faucet is to puke water.
Now remember I’m still in my towel without a seeing utensil. This doesn’t change throughout the story. So my brother tells me where to go downstairs to fix this. And the directions he says is go in the bathroom downstairs look up and there’s like a light switch thing. He knows me well enough to know that is how you direct me. That doesn’t work. Then he tells me there’s a pump thing in the corner under the stairs and theirs a silvery grey cord thing coming out, follow that and turn it off. That makes sense so we get that taken care of and we hang up. Again, my brother knows how to explain things to me in my language. I’m putting on clothes and my mother calls. Way to time that parents. It’s their problem now. I think. Hopefully.
This weekend, other than getting another year older, my foot got ran over by a wheelchair with the person in it. It turned black and blue. This happened on Saturday night and I got home and took my sock off and it was all ready black and blue. Sunday I put my boot on and I grunted and I told my mother what happened and she yelled at me for wearing boots. I’m really counting Saturday and Sunday as my birthday because Saturday was kind of a bust so I was going to wear my boots to church if I wanted to or if my mother did not. So last night when I got off of work, I had my mother, the nurse, look at my foot. First she pointed out it was bruised. Well, thank you mother, I knew that. Then she brought it up closer and poked around my bruise for signs of swelling. Each poke I told her it didn’t hurt and finally she looked up and says, that’s not what I’m poking for. I told her my theory was to tell her any immense pain I had because that helps the healing process.
As some of you know, MJ is one of my best friends. She’s a Special Ed teacher on the other side of the state. When she talks about her profession she writes or says SPED. She was talking about it in an email yesterday and I replied with: Every time I see SPED I think of Speed and then I think of drugs. Remember, hugs, not drugs. Pretty sure that wasn’t what she was expecting from me.
Yesterday was my first college roommate’s birthday so I went and celebrated that. I knew 5 of the 7 people there so I wasn’t totally awkward. There were pictures. It was a good time. End of story. I think. If it isn’t, I’ll talk about it later.
That’s my life as of right now.