Remember that awesome power-walk I took yesterday while writing a kick-ass blog post? Well, I am now paying for my exuberance. It feels like all the joints in my lower body have had knives stuck in them, but not regular knives, no. Rusty knives, which then put rust in between my joints, and rather than breaking my bones apart or tearing out the cartilage, only deposited so much rust that I can't move without maximum effort. But instead of just creaking and moving slowly, there's pain, because face it, our bodies are not meant to be full of rust.
I have things I'm supposed to be doing. The trash needs to go out, and the recycling too, but I live on the second floor, and that means stairs. It took me long enough to get from bed to my computer that I'm thinking maybe the trash can wait just one more day, despite what the empty cereal boxes on the counter are telling me.
I'm also supposed to drive someone somewhere in my ghetto-mobile, but that's not looking like a good idea. The sky is looming in its ominousness (and yes, that's totally a word, though I rather like ominosity, myself). Aside from questionable windshield wipers, my left headlight is a traffic violation waiting to happen. The shield "fell off" at some point between my car getting fixed and a cousin bringing it to me, and now the entire thing falls out at random and dangles from the then-empty hole like some monster's eyeball in a bad horror flick. I really don't want to drive it on the highway for two hours.
Yesterday I had no choice but to go out as the sun was setting, and there were cops everywhere. Public Safety drove through the parking lot as I was getting ready to drive off, and I sat in my car looking at the time and just waiting for him to leave and knowing I needed to leave, but unsure if he'd turn on his lights and stop me from doing so if I pulled up behind him, or maybe he was sitting at the driveway not turning because he was watching me.
Eventually he turned, so I left as well, and on the way home, during a ten-minute drive, I saw something near ten police cars. Maybe it was closer to five, but ten sounds better. I'd have been in trouble, but they were all already pulled over, police out and standing talking to people. One place had two or three police cars all at once, lights blaring. And yes, I know, blaring is sound and glaring is vision, but when you're as paranoid as I am, the lights are indeed blaring.
I like the police. I like that they keep us safe, and that they put our safety over their own sometimes. They rock. But I have eight dollars in the bank keeping my account open, and adding a ticket to the rest of my unpaid bills wouldn't help my sanity level. I am so stressed that arguments over nonsense get my heart skipping irregularly and little sparks in front of my eyes from dizziness.
I do not know who created this Stress Reduction Kit, but I love it. I recommend not using it while it's pulled up on your computer screen, as the screen may become damaged. Also, I take no responsibility for any damages to anyone or their property or brain cells for actually using it. If anyone knows who created this particular kit, please let me know so I can give proper credit.
So there may not be much of a moral to this post, aside from stress being unavoidable and somewhat funny to talk about later. I'm going to make a phone call to get out of that drive, though. I know, driving is easier than walking, but I doubt sitting in a car for two hours (minus a two-minute stop) will do anything for my rusty joints. Maybe I should see my doctor about a tetanus shot.
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