And here is something that you should know before I continue: I am going to dispense with the whole FIXING MY TYPOGRAPHICAL ERRORS AND GENERAL CAPITALIZATION for the rest of this post.
It's a long story.
And it starts on sunday. well, it started whenever the whole canning compulsion began. i'm going to blame it on the canning instead of on the stupids.
i got a ton of plums at teh market on friday for wicked cheap, and by that i mean 75% less than what plums were going for last year. so score and yeah, me!!! but in order to can my plums, i needed to take the already canned stuff off my counter and put it on the shelves in the happy canning closet of bliss (aka basement). so i loaded up a sturdy box with about a dozen full quart jars and hefted the superty heavy box downstairs and very carefully and lovingly put my pretty-pretty jars on the shelf. and then i made another trip. and another and another and another and another...
and then the mister said MAYBE YOU HAD BETTER TAKE IT EASY, LADY. YOU ARE GOING TO HURT YOURSELF.
to which i replied in my out loud voice, OKAY. and with my inside voice WHATEVS, MISTER. I WANT THESE JARS IN THE BASEMENT, LIKE NOW AND STUFF, AND YEAH. SO THERE. mostly because i think i know things, and also because i am known to be a little on the stupid side.
and then i got bored moving jars because walking down and up the stairs twenty or so times is tiring and not really all that fun. so i stopped. because i was good and ready.
and now? i cannot move my right arm so well. and by SO WELL what i really mean is not at all. and when it is all dark out and i should be sleeping because the number of the hour is a single digit? i find myself unpleasantly awake because of THE PAIN!!!! IN MY SHOULDER!!!! AND MY ARM!!! AND THE NUMB!!! AND THE SHARP ZIPPY SHOOTERS DOWN MY ARM!!!
and so i went to teh doctor which has really not been a happy experience of late, but my NP was very nice and every time she would poke me and move my arm and it would show her that i was broken she would say somehting zingy and a little sarcastic and i can really appreciate that sort of nonsense.
diagnosis: best case scenario = bad sprain, tiny rotator cuff tear. worst case scenario = big rotator cuff tear. heat, stretching a little than ice, prednisone and 600 mg ibuprofen three times a day. ALSO WEAR A SLING FOR AT LEAST A WEEK, POSSIBLY TWO AND DON'T ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING.
so this is going to be really awesome. i know this for sure already, because i took my meds like a good girl before i went to bed except PREDNISONE + BEDTIME = TOTALLY AWAKE AT 4 AM TIME.
i was fortunate to make the discovery (after emptying the dishwasher with my left hand only... try that sometime if you have an hour to kill) that i can comfortably type on my laptop, which is happy because i was doing the LEFT HAND PECKING THING on our desktop last night and it totally sucked.
and now the mister's alarm is going off upstairs and nobody is in bed to punch him and tell him to turn it off. poor mister.
so anyway. here's what i really need:
- someone to come hang out and fold some laundry and wipe some keister and make some food and put away the stack of bowls that was too heavy to put up in the cupboard
- someone to punch my husband (very kindly adn with lots of love in their heart) and ask him to please turn his alarm off before everybody wakes up
- way better drugs than flipping prednisone and stupid ibuprofen. but maybe it's good that this hurts in such an unholy fashion because i will remember that next time i think about doing something.
alarm. still. beeping. maybe i'll call him.