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syncope at 09:07pm on 26/01/2011
syncope at 09:07pm on 26/01/2011Who's done with this winter (northern hemisphere edition)?
This morning (alert: second story this week about my family) my aunt was coming by to get the dogs and take them to the groomer (yes, I have obnoxious little dogs who have to go to the groomer, I'm fully aware of all the implications). We trade off who takes all the dogs together. Today was her day. In theory this was going to allow me to sleep in since I had tests today.
IN THEORY.
So about 8 this morning the dogs go fucking nuts, because god only knows they've never seen this person before in THEIR LIVES and must defend the homestead from viking marauders. I figure my aunt is letting herself into the garage.
Ten minutes of dog screaming later the doorbell rings. I shuffle to the door and let her in.
"The keypad on the garage is frozen!"
Something you should be aware of: my aunt is like a character from Harry Potter. She's only sometimes linked to this plain of reality, mostly she's constructing complex lace patterns in her head or pondering magnetic pole reversal.
Let me assure you of this: the keypad on the garage IN NO WAY IS FROZEN, she just can't work it. The keypad defeats her reasoning ability.
So I send her off with the dogs and go back to bed.
Ten minutes later my phone rings.
"What time do you have to go to class?" My aunt, of course. "Because I can wait here until then."
"Uh, did you hit something?" This is the most likely scenario (see: posts about my mom).
"Uh, no, between taking the dogs inside and coming back to the car, I lost my keys."
Even *I* was boggled by this. ME, THE QUEEN OF PUTTING THE CEREAL IN THE FRIDGE AND FORGETTING WHAT YEAR IT IS.
I was positive the keys were on the floorboard of the car somewhere, but it's just best not to even make suggestions like "look on the floorboard of the car." So I went and got her spare keys, drove over to the groomers (remember the whole reason she was taking them was so I didn't have to), and sorted all that out (finding the first set of keys on the floorboard of the car), and drove home.
Here is the point: I wore pajamas and house shoes to do all this because I stupidly thought I could maybe eek out another half hour of sleep. But I slipped and fell on ice in the driveway when I was going inside.
I seriously hit the ground so hard I thought at first I'd broken my arm. You know the kind of pain where your animal instinct no matter how old you get is to burst out crying like a toddler? Yeah, that. LUCKILY, I hurt myself so much that I twisted as I fell and didn't reach out with my hands to break my fall, so I don't have spiral fractures of my wrist. Don't reach out with your hands when you fall, y'all, twist and take it on your side. Unless you're 70, in which case, hello hip rod!
I'm banged up as fuck, but the dogs are clean.
Lesson learned: just get up next time.
This morning (alert: second story this week about my family) my aunt was coming by to get the dogs and take them to the groomer (yes, I have obnoxious little dogs who have to go to the groomer, I'm fully aware of all the implications). We trade off who takes all the dogs together. Today was her day. In theory this was going to allow me to sleep in since I had tests today.
IN THEORY.
So about 8 this morning the dogs go fucking nuts, because god only knows they've never seen this person before in THEIR LIVES and must defend the homestead from viking marauders. I figure my aunt is letting herself into the garage.
Ten minutes of dog screaming later the doorbell rings. I shuffle to the door and let her in.
"The keypad on the garage is frozen!"
Something you should be aware of: my aunt is like a character from Harry Potter. She's only sometimes linked to this plain of reality, mostly she's constructing complex lace patterns in her head or pondering magnetic pole reversal.
Let me assure you of this: the keypad on the garage IN NO WAY IS FROZEN, she just can't work it. The keypad defeats her reasoning ability.
So I send her off with the dogs and go back to bed.
Ten minutes later my phone rings.
"What time do you have to go to class?" My aunt, of course. "Because I can wait here until then."
"Uh, did you hit something?" This is the most likely scenario (see: posts about my mom).
"Uh, no, between taking the dogs inside and coming back to the car, I lost my keys."
Even *I* was boggled by this. ME, THE QUEEN OF PUTTING THE CEREAL IN THE FRIDGE AND FORGETTING WHAT YEAR IT IS.
I was positive the keys were on the floorboard of the car somewhere, but it's just best not to even make suggestions like "look on the floorboard of the car." So I went and got her spare keys, drove over to the groomers (remember the whole reason she was taking them was so I didn't have to), and sorted all that out (finding the first set of keys on the floorboard of the car), and drove home.
Here is the point: I wore pajamas and house shoes to do all this because I stupidly thought I could maybe eek out another half hour of sleep. But I slipped and fell on ice in the driveway when I was going inside.
I seriously hit the ground so hard I thought at first I'd broken my arm. You know the kind of pain where your animal instinct no matter how old you get is to burst out crying like a toddler? Yeah, that. LUCKILY, I hurt myself so much that I twisted as I fell and didn't reach out with my hands to break my fall, so I don't have spiral fractures of my wrist. Don't reach out with your hands when you fall, y'all, twist and take it on your side. Unless you're 70, in which case, hello hip rod!
I'm banged up as fuck, but the dogs are clean.
Lesson learned: just get up next time.
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