I am sitting at my kitchen table beside a sliding door through which a beautiful fall day is visible. To my right on the table is a tape measure that looks like a square Pinocchio head, and pulling out the tape means his nose grows. Because it's so brightly coloured, I keep catching it in the corner of my eye and thinking it's my phone and I'm getting a text. This is silly and annoying and amusing.
I just didn't feel like starting yet another post with an explanation of why I haven't blogged for three weeks and an enumeration of all the events since I last blogged (although that's coming), so I went another way.
What's been going on? Well for starters, does no one lock their cars anymore? I only ask because I have been out running errands and opened the door of my black SUV (which opens automatically when I have my fob in my hand, because I DO lock my door) and then had one ass cheek in the seat before realizing that THIS IS NOT MY VEHICLE on MULTIPLE occasions in the past few weeks. If the door opens, I assume it's my vehicle, but my memory is on life support, I am easily distracted, and there are a FUCKTON of black SUVs (SsUV?) out there. Once I only noticed I was in the wrong car because of a can of nuts in the centre console, and then I wondered what kind of a chump I am driving around with no nuts in the centre console, because come on, that is just a good idea. Sometimes it's only the lack of used kleenex piled behind the gearshift that tips me off (and if I clean it out, then I'm worried I'm in the wrong car the next time I get in). I always leap back out like my butt has been burned, and I haven't been caught yet, but geez, LOCK YOUR DOORS, people!
Speaking of do as I say, not as I do, when Angus was still home in the summer, one night we had just gotten back from somewhere, all gotten out of the car, forgotten to lock it, and gone inside. I only went in long enough to fill up the watering can, then stepped out the front door to water the hanging baskets. At first I thought it was Angus looking in the Rav for something, then realized it was a man I didn't know. I stood there staring like an idiot, nearly saying something massively idiotic like "can I help you?" He calmly closed the door and started walking away, until I shouted "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, FUCKWEASEL" and then he started running. It was only ten-thirty in the evening! Lock your doors, people! (It's me, I'm people).
I mentioned a couple of posts ago that I had thrown axes at our friends' cottage and was paying for it with a pinched nerve and pretty bad nerve pain shooting down my arm. In an unaccustomed lack of procrastination, I booked a physiotherapy appointment barely two weeks into this being a problem (it hurt a lot). I also called Rocket Doctor (a virtual doctor service in Canada) to ask for an anti-inflammatory and/or muscle relaxant to get me through to my physio appointment. I told the doctor I hurt myself throwing axes and he said "...nice". Stretch before axe-throwing, people!
I had one previous wonderful experience at the place I went to, after switching from a crappy place that seemed to spend a lot of time on icing and TENS machines and other things I could do myself at home and hardly any on effective therapeutic techniques. This time was also extremely positive. After only three visits I was to the point where the medication could take the pain down to zero, and after four the injury pain was gone and this dude was addressing stuff that I thought was just pain I had to live with now. I did end up with some spectacular bruising after one visit. He said "did your husband ask you what the hell happened?" I said "Yeah, I just told him I got dry-nailed by an Italian man named Luca". He said "NEEDLED, Allison, dry-NEEDLED".
So yeah, fall. My favourite season has been throwing pretty good favourite-season vibes. Some rain, but then some great weather when I really needed it. Some tea and reading outside until I couldn't feel my fingers (all I need is some gloves that leave on fingertip naked for turning ipad pages and I'm set). Anyone else want to flip a table every time you see the word 'shacket?' This is a new, super-stupid marketing thing. It's a combination of a shirt and a jacket but sounds ridiculous and, as my friend Marilyn (HI MARILYN) pointed out, evokes a jacket made of or associated with shit. Could they not have gone with 'sweater' instead? Is 'swacket' any stupider? What genius was responsible for this abomination? And are they related to whatever brainiac came up with "Feel again, at the movies" to get people back in theatres? Did no one think that one could use a touch more workshopping?
Enough, I'm getting cranky and this is not a Surly Thursday post. Love you all. Lock your doors. Button up your shackets. Be well.