Yesterday, I had a Vicodin hangover. I very seldom take any type of pain medication. It exacerbates my migraine disorder. So what, you may ask, made me break this cardinal rule?
You may or may not know that I have a very rocky relationship with gravity. I throw myself to the ground. Not intentionally, mind you, but it happens none the less. A few months ago, I missed the last couple of steps going down to the stream in our back yard. Ok, it may have been 3 or 4, but I SWEAR the ivy reached out and grabbed my ankle. Anyway, it wasn't pretty. I am a very practiced faller. I tuck and roll and typically minimize damage.
Friday, I tripped over a embarrassingly low curb in front of PCC. While I thought I was doing ok, by the time I drove the 2 blocks home, I could barely peel myself out of the car. As soon as I convinced my mom that the ER was an unnecessary step (by doing a couple of sad but effective jumping jacks), I was calling for Aleve and Vicodin. On which I stayed for the better part of 4 days.
Anyway, I explained all this to Chris yesterday. He asked "Nothing broken besides your dignity?" I pointed out that I have no dignity and thus nothing was broken. He then suggested a Rascal for trips out of the house. He's OBVIOUSLY nuts. If I can hurt myself this badly fighting nothing but gravity, can you imagine me trying to pry myself out from underneath one of those behemoths?
"The scooter is supposed to prevent your impromptu slapstick routine." Seriously? He rides in the car with me all the time. At best I'm an average driver. "Point taken. If you can't stay upright on those size 10 gunboats of yours, three little rubber tires probably won't fare any better."
For the record? They are size 11 1/2 gunboats. If I were LUCKY enough to have size 10? I'd be able to increase my shoe wardrobe at least 100% with no problem. Which would obviously make the minor reduction in stability entirely worth it.