It Never Ends

For reasons unknown, when I woke up today my knee was killing me. AND my hammy was screaming. Apparently I entered a long jump contest last night and just don't remember it. Dragged my ass downstairs and parked myself at the counter for three hours. Miserable. Every angle, every way I held my leg, shit was killing me. Finally I’m like hey, I should move over to the living room in the big fat recliner. Put my leg up. I drag myself over, carrying this laptop and my cellie. Figuring once I get settled, I’ll have everything I need within reach, and will be able to keep my leg elevated.

So I get to the recliner and see that the electric cord for the laptop ain’t gonna reach the nearest outlet. “Well” I decide oh so brilliantly “better take care of this now, I don’t wanna get settled in and then hafta get up in an hour cause the battery’s dead.” So I put the shit down and move the recliner. Which was zero fun with my bum knee. So I’m finally done wrestling with the mf and plop down, relieved. Settled in and got my laptop, tv, and phone. Which, on cue, starts ringing…about 8 feet away, where I had set it down. Fuuuuuck!!!! I debate getting up. Who the fuck’s calling me in the middle of the day? All my friends are at work. I bet it’s a fucking 800 number, I decide. I finally got my leg up, I ain’t getting up just cause I left my phone out of reach. Of course as the minutes go by, it starts driving me crazy…who was it? Maybe it’s important?

Side note: I have had exactly two important phone calls in my life. The first was my brother calling me and telling me the Bojangles in Charlottesville had closed down, and the other when my girlfriend called me in tears, crazy in love cause our song "I Melt with You" had come on the radio, a "long distance dedication to the love of my life from Tappahannock." Of course I played along that it was me who had called (it wasn't.) Her ensuing shows of appreciation of course allowed me to convince myself I did the right thing. Baby, if you ever read this....sorry!

So now I gotta get up or else I’ll give myself a cranial hernia. Surely this is the phone call from Judith Light I've been waiting for - she's at NASA, needs some piece of expertise that only I have to save the Earth, and then wants to let me rummage thru her tongety tong-tong drawer. I put the laptop down, gingerly collapse the footrest on the recliner with my one good leg, and slowly stand up. Much, much pain. I curse my way over to the phone, grab it and VOILA!!!! 1-877-xxxxxxx. Fuuuuuuck!!!!

I growl, bitch at myself that “i KNEW it, goddammit! And start the shuffle back to my chair. I calm myself down by saying well, least now I got my fucking phone. Won’t happen again. Fall back into chair, prop leg up, take a breath. Lappity-lap-top back in my lap, ready to relax and enjoy my afternoon. Grab the remote which, I must pat myself on the back, I had had the foresight to make sure was laying on the chair before I sat back down. Now I can watch my stories, google Kim Kardashian images and receive fone calls from my bizz-otches. Pick up the remote, click on the tv and……FUUUUUCK!!! Wrong remote for this tv. I hafta fucking start the whole gotdam thing over again, finding the right remote. Happy fucking day.