Tuesday, July 3, 2012

You have got to be kidding me.

Sitting on a sheet in the front yard. Typing on my computer. Working on job applications because for the love of all things holy I can't handle another 100+ degree day in the midwest. Orion starts to sprint for a dog that's loose across the street. I have a fraction of a second to think, the leash is caught on the tree and he can't get that far, before I'm thrown forward, leash catching my neck like a piano wire and I'm catching myself with my broken arm.
Where the hell is my left arm?
Why the hell does this happen WHEN I DON'T HAVE MY BRACE ON??! I fold up, grab my wrist. Start crying.
I stand up. Get my phone. Call my mother. Ask her if she thinks I really f'd up my arm again or if maybe I'm okay because I maybe just landed on it in a way that it doesn't fold yet on it's own.
"Ice. Advil."
I collect the sheet. The computer, the dog.
I get ice.
I hate the world for a few.
Especially when I can't pick up the bag of ice with the hand.
Then I realize after :30 of ice, I can type again. I give the dog a bone and tell him I need space so to please leave me alone for a few.
And then I clean up the cut on the back of my neck and think of how at least I'm not decapitated.

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