In a word: Not so great.
OK, that's three words.
And don't worry. I'm about to give you several more, detailing how I managed to literally fall on my face and then metaphorically get kicked while I was down.
Little Miss C got a bit fussy on me in the afternoon. The kind of fussy where she's tired but she doesn't REALIZE that if she'd just go to sleep, that would cure the problem. So after rocking and ssshhhing she was finally sleeping off her drama and I actually had time to take a shower.
I'm not sure if I made this totally clear before, but when I walked Mac and Coop and Caroline up to the groomer's earlier that morning, I had not showered before we left the house. Also, I was wearing a nursing tank top with a maternity tank top over it (helllloooo hottie) and workout shorts and my hair was two days dirty and in a pony tail and I obviously wasn't wearing any make up whatsoever. I mean I was WALKING which is the closest thing I'm getting to exercise these days, and I'm not one of those people who puts on make up to go exercise. And there was no point in showering when it was hot enough that I'd break a sweat even though I was only walking a short distance.
Anyway, Caroline had just fallen asleep when the groomer called and said Little Mac was ready to go. I asked if it would be ok if I picked her up in about an hour, and they said that was fine. So then I jumped in the shower. I had plans for that evening, so I took advantage of her napping to blow dry my hair and put on makeup. And I put on a little black sundress (a nice stretchy knit so it still fits).
My friend Abby was coming over to visit me (and the bebe) so I had the brilliant idea of asking her to sit with Caroline for a few minutes while I drove to pick up Little Mac. Of course Abby was more than happy to do this for me. I was a little worried that Caroline would wake up from her nap and be hungry, but as I mentioned before, the groomer is less than a block away. So I figured I'd be there and back in five minutes.
I assured Abby of this and dashed out the door. As I was rushing outside, Cooper was barking and I turned my head to tell him to shush, and then...
I don't know exactly what happened. I was stepping out the front door onto the front stoop and somehow I landed on the side of my flip flop and then my foot rolled and my ankle kept going. I felt a shooting pain, and I crumpled down on the concrete stoop.
Abby didn't actually see me fall, but she saw me down on the ground, so she flung open the door to make sure I was ok.
I was not ok.
It was my bad ankle, which I severely sprained my freshman year of college. And it had happened almost the same way--I was walking, and I fell off the sidewalk. I was on my way to class with one of my guy friends, and he mentioned that his girlfriend was going to the mall because it was Clinique Bonus Week. I was so excited about finding out it was Clinique Bonus Week that I forgot to watch where I was going, and as I was squealing about new eye shadow and black honey lip gloss, I stepped off the sidewalk and rolled my ankle in the most painful way possible.
My friend Greg thought I was kidding at first when I collapsed onto the grass and it was ONLY because it was in the middle of campus in front of who knows how many witnesses that I managed not to cry. Greg helped me up and helped me limp to class (Environmental Science lab) and the professor sent someone to the dining hall next door to get me ice and then I sat there with my ankle iced and elevated while we all did an experiment (I forget what the experiment was) and THEN my professor drove me to the hospital where I had an x-ray to make sure that my ankle wasn't broken. The doctor said sympathetically that sometimes sprains hurt more than an actual break. They sent me home with an ankle brace and a prescription for pain pills and crutches. I lived on the third floor of a walk-up dorm. And my roommate had to carry my tray in the dining hall. It was a long couple of weeks.
Anyway, this time I was ok. It wasn't actually sprained, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. Also I was totally embarrassed that I'd just EATEN IT in front of a witness (of course someone had to be there to see this) but I was also glad Abby was there just in case I really hadn't been ok. And thank goodness I wasn't holding the baby!
Abby flung open the door and came outside, anxiously asking if I was ok and what she could do.
I kept saying, "I don't know yet..."
Anyway, after a minute, I caught my breath and rotated my foot around. It was clear my ankle wasn't broken, and I managed to stand up and put my weight on it. It hurt, but it didn't hurt more when I walked on it. It obviously wasn't severely sprained. And it was time to pick up the damn dog and I needed to get back before the baby woke up and wanted to eat. So... carry on!
I limped to the car and then drove to the groomer.
So that was my injury. The insult came next.
When I walked in, the groomer (the same middle-aged woman I'd talked to that morning) smiled at me and said, "Hi. Can I help you?"
Except the way she said it was a little odd--like she couldn't imagine what I was doing there.
I said, "Yes. I am here to pick up Little Mac."
"Oh!" she said, "Ok."
She headed for the door to the back. Then she turned and said, "You're not the one who dropped her off this morning, are you?"
I stared at her. "Um, yeah."
She blinked at me and then said, "Wow. You clean up good."
I was speechless.
I mean, obviously I was not looking my best when I dropped off Little Mac, but evidently I was actually UNRECOGNIZABLE? Are you KIDDING me?
And who says that to a complete stranger? It's like a reverse compliment that doesn't actually mean you look NICE, it just means you looked like hell on wheels before. Which, apparently, I DID, but that doens't mean commenting on it is necessary!
She brought out Little Mac, who was shaved so short she looked like a different dog (which was sort of what I'd asked for, but still a little shocking), and I said, "Wow, Little Mac! You clean up good, too."
I paid. She said Little Mac hadn't bitten anyone, although she tried to bite the girl who bathed her, but it was all right and she could come back again. I left a tip to apologize for Little Mac's behavior. Then Little Mac trotted and I limped back to the car, favoring my hurt ankle and nursing my wounded pride.
|Ah kleen up rill gud.|