I spent much of the weekend licking my wounds, except it was figurative, of course, which was a good thing, because if I’d been trying to LITERALLY lick anything on my body I might’ve screwed up my neck more than it was already screwed up.
[Typical conversation with my chiropractor over the last few days:
Her: Does this hurt?
Me: IT ALL HURTS.
Her: But does it hurt MORE?
Me: Maybe. Can you make it hurt LESS? Or could you maybe just KILL ME?]
So my neck was hurting and my ego was hurting and my everything-is-going-to-be-fine meter was freaking out and I figured I would just sulk for a few days and then come back and tell you a funny story about the dog, because HEY! Everyone loves funny stories about the dog!
It was such a good plan, too.
So let’s just get this out of the way, first: Late Friday afternoon, I was laid off from one of my jobs. Near as I can tell, the earth is still rotating and it didn’t cause my bank accounts to immediately zero out, or anything like that, but nevertheless the suckitude, it doth ascend verily unto 11 and beyond, if you catch my drift.
And it has nothing to do with ME, and it doesn’t appear that I could’ve done anything to prevent this from happening, so that should be comforting, but right now, it isn’t. I’ve lost jobs before. Or contracts have ended. Whatever. This one hit me particularly hard for a variety of reasons I don’t really feel like getting into, and let me also just say that AS MUCH AS I LOVE THIS CLIENT… okay, nevermind. Redacted! Let’s just say I DO NOT LIKE IT, SAM I AM.
As if “what I like” in this situation matters one whit. I know.
So I took my borked neck and my injured pride and my various other baggage and decided to have a quiet weekend feeling sorry for myself. I mean, that just seemed logical.
My neck is (slowly) improving and on Saturday Chickadee went up to the next level of The Geektastic Wonder also known as Science Fair and nabbed herself another blue ribbon and thus an invitation to move up yet another level, and so it was looking like devoting my time and energy self-pity was going to be kind of dumb, actually.
Yesterday I continued working on Clearing Out My Old Desk because hey, I have all this extra time now, right, and I should Be Productive and Get My Office In Shape, and then I spent a chunk of the day out thrifting with a friend (that always cheers me up, even at our local crappy Goodwill which has a pervasive smell of feet), and I did laundry and I vacuumed and by the time the kids were tucked into bed I was feeling Almost Normal.
It’s all going to be fine, I said to Otto. On to the next! It’s okay! I’m grateful for the experience and this is making room for the next adventure! I need to stretch my wings, really. I’ll spend some time deciding what I really want to pursue! Otto agreed and to celebrate—because we are all kinds of wild and crazy—we decided to pop some popcorn and watch TV. Woo!
Of course, we were having a big storm yesterday, and the lights kept flickering, so we were joking that we’d have to watch television EXTRA FAST in case we ended up losing power. So Otto was setting up the popcorn maker and I was with him in the kitchen, and we were chatting, but I asked him to hang on a sec because I heard the dog making a racket in the family room.
I’ll confess, a tiny part of my brain thought, “Here it is! The cherry on top of my amazing resilience in the face of adversity—now I’m going to get that funny dog story I’ve been wanting all weekend.”
[If you have a dog, or if you know dogs, you know that even the most slug-like dog sometimes gets what we refer to as "the zoomies." It can last just a minute or half an hour, but it's a giant burst of totally GOOFY energy where the dog zooms around like she's on crack. In Licorice's case, if she gets a really good bout of zoomies going, she doesn't even need us to play with her... she'll toss her toys for herself and then run after them with zeal.]
So I heard this sort of WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP coming from the family room and I figured Licorice was getting her zoomies on, and was possibly smacking some beloved toy or other against the couch, or SOMETHING… I mean, I was having trouble identifying the noise, but I was SURE it would be something really good.
I walked into the family room and turned the light on, ready to behold my darling dog doing something hilarious.
Except that Licorice was curled up on the couch, doing nothing.
WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP
Wait. What the…?
WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP
Everything went into slow motion, and it felt like it took an hour for me to figure it out, even though it probably took four seconds, max, and then another second after that for me to start swearing loudly and calling for Otto.
Do you know what sounds like WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP?
It turns out that’s what it sounds like when it starts raining INSIDE YOUR HOUSE. True story! Yep, that’s the sound it makes as water spurts from the ceiling and lands on your precious hardwood floor that you’re not, you know, supposed to get wet.
See, I’d forgotten that if I got over the whole wallowing thing too quickly, the universe would bitchslap me with a reminder of why things actually really suck. Because we’re perfectly fine without that job of mine, financially, sure, and what are the chances that it’s going to cost a lot of money to fix the roof and the resultant water damage? I’m sure that’s totally CHEAP!
In conclusion, if you need me, I’ll be under my desk.
I’m bringing my markers. Today I’m working on a pretty sign that says WILL WORK FOR ROOF SHINGLES.