Ow.

Okay, so today bordered on one of the worst days of my life. But to get there, we must start at Thanksgiving. My Thanksgiving started off with a lovely little back injury. I sprained my back on thursday, and was in a tremendous amount of pain. Now, I'm no wuss; I mean, I can do pain alright usually, so long as no needles are involved. But this was just badddd. Finally, my buddy came home and I begged him for something, anything (he recently injured his back). He gave me a muscle relaxer, and twenty minutes later, I was loopy as can be and crashed shortly thereafter. Sleeping was difficult, though, as I kept waking up from the pain. I woke up this morning and was afraid to move, but finally did. In what proved to be an agonizing feat, I put together eight boxes and had them all taped up (I sell stuff on eBay). It took about thirty minutes, and it was pretty painful work. My plan was to stop off at the post office and head to work. Gritting my teeth, I got dressed loaded up the boxes. I got to the post office, unloaded everything, and was met with a sign that said "Went to lunch, return at 2:00". Well, I had to be at work at two. Great. I tossed my boxes in the Jeep and went to work. Now, I know that some of you are thinking, "why didn't you just call in?" Well, mainly because I can't afford not to work. This year has been full of doctor visits, medications that make me very ill, and things that make me pass out. To make a long story short, after the whole 'trying to get pregnant' thing and doctor visits sometimes twice a week, I'm out of sick time. Now, we're having issues paying the bills, and I can't afford to not work. So in I went. I got to work at two. It was payday today, which is always good, and I got my check. When I looked at it, I realized that it was about $300 less than I was expecting. I started to panic. Then I realized my commission wasn't on the check. I told my boss, and he didn't know why it wasn't there either. He didn't seem too concerned, but I was insistent (lol). He sent an email out and said I'd have my check by tomorrow. Called the hubby, let him know we wouldn't have my check in the bank until monday, because I have to work 9-5 tommorow. I checked my palm pilot to see what classes I had coming in today. It didn't turn on; it was dead. I was resigned to wingin' it. I'd teach 'em as they came in, fine. I went off to be productive. My back was killing me. It was 2:30. By 3:45, I was in a lot of pain and taped an icepack to my back with packing tape. By 4:15, I was talking to my boss finding out just how much sick time I did have. I had four hours, which meant that I could leave at five. Okay, no problem. I can do this, right? By 4:55, I was sweating and shaking the pain was so bad. I was actually nauseous. I could barely move. I stood staring at the time clock for the last five minutes. I clocked out and went to the "twenty minute urgent care" facility in harbor view. Well, apparently, everyone had issues today, and twenty minute care turned into two and a half hour care. I finally got seen by none other than John Lennon (no, seriously, it was Dr. John Lennon) and was asked to perform a series of circus acts. Okay, well, maybe you wouldn't consider walking on your heels and/or toes and kicking the doctor/famous musician's hand circus acts, but when you're in pain...
I did manage to walk out with a crowd-pleasing combo of Vicodin and Flexoril. Woohoo. I left the urgent care place and went to Walgreen's, where I met a wonderful young lady who had apparently been working all day (Black Friday, mind you) and her attitude reflected it. I wandered around there for about fifteen minutes while I waited, and was elated to buy a new toothbrush, as my dog had stolen my last one. I'm a serious germ-o-phobe when it comes to stuff like that, so I'd been finger-brushing for about three days. Just can't use Andy's; it grosses me out. Yeah, I know, I kiss him and blah, blah, but...ugh. Toothbrushes? No. Not happening, my friend.

Anyways, finally, with my happy pills in hand, I left. And immediately noticed that the gas light was on. Actually, it had been on since I left work, which meant I had about 2.5 more seconds before I completely ran out of gas. I pulled into a hundred-year-old gas station and inserted my credit card seventy-two times or so before the rickety pump accepted it. By now, it was after 8:00 and about forty degrees. In my hurry to get to the doctor, I'd left my coat at work. So, with my tense back muscles, I'm standing in the forty degree windy night pumping gas on the world's oldest and slowest gas pump. It was one of those that if you tried to pump it at full speed, it would cut off and pinch your finger. I finally made it home about nine. It's been a long day.

So, now I'm off to bed, because the meds are making me realllllllly sleepy. Tomorrow is the true test. Come hell or high water, it's nine to five tomorrow, 'cause I got no more time left.