So remember that skating trip I talked about? Well I forgot to mention something...
I fell. Took quite a spill... and I landed on a knee that was already a little angered and now that knee is pissed! So here I lay immobile with a blue squishy ice pack instead of making the most of night at dance class. And I'm pissed. It was kind of just a matter of time, really. I first hurt my knee about four years ago when I fell down the stairs carrying an armload of laundry. It was a sprain and I had to take time off work because I knew working with children meant it was impossible for me to remain seated at all during my day. A few weeks ago during my brief stint with dodgeball I tweaked the same knee again and since then certain things have made it a bit sore.
I'm a horrible sick/injured person. When I first moved to New York I was sick for almost two months straight. First with a horrible cold, then with the stomach flu (over Christmas, really) and then with bronchitis, the residuals of which lasted for weeks. It goes without saying that I was miserable but what I remember most was being terribly, terribly homesick. When I'm ill I want my mommy. I'm three years old again and I cry because I don't know what else to do. When something hurts I just wanted to be waited on and big girls who move to New York all by themselves usually don't have people to take care of them. I didn't, anyway and aside from a wonderful roommate who got me a fresh ice pack and the bottle of Aleve out of the medicine cabinet, I still don't. Things like this make me feel alone. Things like this remind me I'm alone in all of this.
So though the skating was totally worth the angry knee, I'm pouting and really wish someone would make me dinner.
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