Typing really sucks right now because I have De Quervain’s tenosynovitis, which is more commonly known as Tendonitis.
Basically my tendons are swollen in my wrists. Both of them. And the part where they go over the bone feels like someone is jabbing an ice hammer into the side of my arm and trying to crush my bones at all times.
I’m on prescription pain meds and have to do “wrist rest” (say that 10 times. Strike that. Try to say that even three times fast. I dare you) for two weeks. Part of the wrist rest involves wearing super sexy braces that curve up over my thumb, and make it impossible to bend them my wrist. Basically, their only downfall is that they are removable.
So all day, I’m like, “Well, obviously the doctor didn’t mean I had to wear them when I do my hair and make-up in the morning.” And, “Obviously, I’m not actually supposed to wear them when I’m getting dressed.” Followed by, “Well it’s not like I can actually wear them when I put clothes in the washer, or brush my teeth or rinse dishes or breathe. No reasonable person would ask me to do that.”
So ya, I need to work on that.
Anyway, all this means that playing Words with Friends really hurts, checking emails really hurts, and typing this post really hurts. So I’m going to be healing my wrists for at least the next week and likely won’t get back to your Words with Friends game until it automatically resigns me for not playing for 22 days or whatever the limit is.
Sorry in advance.
My little sister Monica is pretty much the most amazing thing in the entire Continental United States.
When she plays volleyball images of the Olympics flash through your brain, when she writes a paper, you wonder how she is yet to be published and when you see her beautiful pencil-tight curls in a photo, you start to think maybe she can live out her dream of being “a dancer, a model or a singer.”
She also loves God like a rock star, can help you plan a party or a youth group event like a professional and navigates better than Google Maps.
Plus, she laughs at pretty much all my jokes.
But I have to say, I have never been more proud of her than when I found out what happened at her school’s mock election.
Apparently, she was chatting with a friend, and the two of them were holding full ballots for the presidential race as well as the local races and her friend was all, “I don’t know hot to fill this out.”
And Monica was all, “It’s easy, just mark all the ones with a “D” next to their name.”
It makes me want to cry tears of joy. Someone done raised her well.
My car has heat again! THREE CHEERS FOR HEAT!
CHEER HEAT! CHEER HEAT! CHEER HEAT!
Dudes, you do not even understand how much I hate being cold. If God could give me just one thing for the rest of my whole life and eternity it would be for me to never be cold again ever.
I’ve had to drive to work the last couple days with a coat on my body and another coat on my legs and a hat on my head and a very sad face.
Also, my car doesn’t stall at stoplights any more.
This is AMAZING!
My daily panic attacks have been cut by about 70-million.
The thing that really stressed me out was when the car would stall as I was creeping up to a light, and then I would have to turn it off and then turn it on and go again and in the meantime, someone would honk at me and I would be like, ‘Yes, sir, I am randomly stopped in the middle of the random busy road because my goal in life is to make you 12 more seconds late to your stupid job, but now that you have kindly honked your horn at me, I will go forth on my path and get out of your way. Thank you.”
Anyway, I bet you’re thinking, HEAT? AND IT DOESN’T STALL ANYMORE?? YOU MUST HAVE PAID A TRILLION DOLLARS FOR SUCH LUXURY!
But no, I got a warm car that now only turns off when I tell it to for the low, low prices of $146.
Life is good folks. Life is good.