Sometimes a smile and a laugh can take away a lot of pain. My daughter Amber gave me one of those moments this morning and it was really needed. Yesterday was my first visit to therapy for a consult. I was under the impression that following therapy would be basic Tai Chi in a nice, warm pool. Of course, this wasn’t the case. It’s never the case when it comes to me. If the weatherman said there was a one percent chance of rain, then raindrops would land on my head.
The day before my visit, I made sure to take a long bath and shave parts that haven’t seen a razor in quite a while. I even used the scraper on my feet and painted my toenails. Didn’t want to wear a swimming suit and frighten the therapist. I’m sure they have seen worse, but I do have some pride left. After going over paperwork with the front office, I was slowly whisked away by my therapist Susan. She was a very nice lady and explained that they treat a lot of patients with fibromyalgia, so I was in good hands.
Then the torture started. Susan needed to have me move in every direction possible to determine my range of motion and the level of pain. This only lasted for a little while, but seemed to go on forever. I can’t blame her for the pain, she was only doing her job, but oh my! I’m not doing that again for a while. Susan was very sweet when she was done putting me through agony, she brought me heat packs to lie on. Those packs almost made up for the misery.
This morning was like another round of torture thanks to therapy. Every muscle throbbed with pain. Now, mornings are tough for me anyhow and it takes a while for me to get going. This morning was unbelievable though. It took me three hours to get moving. I woke up at seven, took 800 mg of ibuprofen, then went back to bed, and just snuggled with my dog Foofers. He is old, so hopefully through his doggy dementia he had a little bit of empathy for my struggle. Probably not though, because he was busy snoring until I finally crawled out of bed at ten.
Amber called not long after and that I told her it took me three hours to get out of bed. She made some weird noise, huffed, and informed me I better get my butt to the emergency room. It seems she had the impression of me trying to sit up for three hours. That was definitely the laugh and smile that I needed to get my day going.
Ever have that awkward moment when you run into someone you should know, but you have no clue who they are? I can honestly say this has happened to me more times than I care to admit. I usually just smile, chat along with them, and pretend like I remember who they are. It’s really kind of embarrassing. Sometimes I open my mouth and something stupid comes out of it.
For anyone who grew up in Abilene, Kansas, the Central Kansas Free Fair is a big deal. Anyone who is anyone goes to the parade and fair. Even those of us who have moved away make a point to go home once a year and walk the fairgrounds. Like most kids in Abilene I grew up belonging to 4H and showing my rabbits, dogs, and projects at the fair. Going back is always fun and exciting, if not interesting.
A few years ago I went back for the yearly walk of the fairgrounds and to take the kids on the rides. I’m not sure they felt the same rush and excitement that I did at seeing who was there. It’s always fun to see who goes to fair and how much they have or have not changed. Not that I am one to talk, I certainly don’t look like I did when I was sixteen.
Walking around the carnival that night I kept seeing a dark-haired man with a mustache and goatee. He looked so familiar; I knew that he had to be from my past somehow. How on earth did I know him? Old boyfriend maybe? No, that wasn’t it, he had to be about ten years older than me. Maybe we were related. He did look a little like my cousin Paul. It was driving me absolutely insane. So, after stalking him and his girlfriend for several minutes, I finally worked up the courage to walk up to him.
“Hi, my name is Michele. You know, you look an awful lot like my cousin Paul”.
He just looked at me, shook his head, and said “Michele, you moron, I am your cousin Paul.”
Oops, OK, so I hadn’t seen Paul for a couple of years and he definitely didn’t have a mustache and goatee the last time I saw him. It’s been ten years since this happened and I still haven’t lived this one down.
(n.d.). A carnival at night time. [Print Photo]. Retrieved from http://www.freestockphotos.biz/stockphoto/14058
Using a public restroom can be a frightening experience because you never know what you will find. Pestilence, bubonic plague, hemorrhagic fever; who knows what horrible disease is waiting for you courtesy of a public toilet. No matter how gruesome these maladies may seem, nothing is as awful as having some idiot sit in the stall next to you when there is no one else in the restroom. That’s why the importance of bathroom etiquette is something that everyone should learn.
- Don’t sit next to anyone if you can help it. Take for example a large department store restroom with numerous stalls. When entering the restroom, look to see which stalls are unoccupied. If all are empty, use the farthest stall from the door. If someone is in that stall, use the one that is farthest away from them. At best, try to keep at least one empty spot between you and the other customer. Do you really want to listen to someone’s bodily functions?
- Control your children. I once was in a restroom when a three year old crawled under the stall wall into my area. Talk about a surprise.
- If you must sit next to someone, refrain from talking to them. No one wants to have a conversation with you right then.
- If the person next to you asks for toilet paper, politely hand it to them.
- Finally, if you pee on the seat, wipe it off.
Now, these rules are for the women’s public restroom. While I have walked into the men’s restroom on accident a time or two, I try not to frequent them. Even though I did try to pee standing up once in a frat house in a drunken haze, I’m still not really sure what happens in the men’s zone, but I imagine that some of these rules still apply. Let’s hope it’s not like the movies when one guy turns to talk to the dude next to him and pees all over his pants. Not cool.
Home bathrooms require etiquette as well, just on a smaller scale.
- If you put the seat up, put it down. Also put the lid down as well, because it’s about as sanitary as washing your toothbrush in a petri dish every time you flush.
- Warn someone if you did something stinky. Don’t let them walk into toxic fumes and take the risk of being blown up if a match is lit.
- Finally, if you use the last piece of toilet paper, replace it. It doesn’t matter if it goes under or over, that is for strung out A-type personalities anyway,
I hope you will find this information usual and never sit next to me in a stall. Trust me, I’ll know it’s you and you will suffer the revenge of the toilets.
I have been told on more than one occasion that my life should be a sitcom. I have always wanted to write a book to test this fact, but never get farther than a couple of chapters. I know that I have way more humorous stories in me than a lousy two chapters. So maybe a blog is the way to go. So many interesting and unbelievable things have happened over the years that I need to get them out somewhere. This lets you, the reader, decide if my life is sitcom worthy or not.