Sunday, April 3, 2016

Moving and the Subconscious Mind

Yea, so we, by that, I mean my friend and I, decided to move to the burbs to be closer to her grand kids, my "nephews". The long story is, we have been friends for about 25 years, used to be roomates until the last move when we got separate apartments in HUD housing for disabled and elderly. Separate apartments are great because she gets to be the minimalist she loves to be and I get to have all my art supplies and other stuff all around me. How we ever managed to live together for so many years is beyond me. She loves to help people, I love to be by myself. She has a car and would never be without one. I owned one car that got squished by a semi and none since. They are so expensive to upkeep. I have always used public transport or walked or borrowed a car when needed. We have been through surgeries and heart attacks together. Anyway, we decided to get into housing out in the town where her daughter lives to be closer to the grand babies and since neither of us is great at night driving any more we will get to spend more time with them. The apartments are slightly smaller but have either a balcony or a patio. The place we live in now wants to go no smoking, because apparently it offends some nonsmokers to have people smoke in the privacy of their own home. Carole quit smoking after her heart attacks and I still smoke. Anyway, if all housing goes nonsmoking at least I will be able to just go out on my balcony to smoke. Here, I'd have to take an elevator to go downstairs and go outside.
 Anyway, last month, I was helping my friend unload her groceries and dropped a box of cat litter on my foot. The point of the box hit me in the ball area of the foot but luckily between the bones. I did think it broke because I heard a loud crack, but everything seemed ok and it is now all better. So, we finished packing my apartment and went to get our stuff from storage last night so everything would be in one place when we moved. I was helping move a steamer trunk onto a dolly. I stepped up and back onto the curb. I could already see it in my mind more like one of those out of body experiences. It was going to happen. The fall! I stepped on the back of my boot and I swear in slow mo fell on my bum and dropped the box on my foot. Also not broken, thankfully. It has 3 weeks to heal before the move. I am thankful that I didn't fall on my tailbone. I did that in JR. High gymnastics. There I sat gasping for breath on the gym floor with tears coming out of my eyes and the teacher said "get up and do it again". The first words out of my mouth were F---k You! And to the office I went. No one bothered to ask if I had hurt myself or take me to a Dr. Nope. No sissy shit for you. So I spent the next few years unable to sit still in a seat because of the pain. I never did find out if it was broken or fractured. About 10 years later I had xrays and the doctor told me I had a deformed tail bone. So I am assuming I was still young enough that it was fractured and healed crooked. Anyway, back to my fall, honestly, I didn't even know it was possible to fall on your anus. Not my big bubble butt. No, those suckers took off and left my poor anus to take the brunt of the concrete. It felt like a painful fart going in the wrong direction. I am just thankful it wasn't my tail bone, cause, I like to sit. It is what I do best these days. Of course then I realized that I had dropped the steamer trunk on my foot. Right now, it just feels swollen and stiff and making all kinds of pretty colors. Either I have a very high pain threshold or it is going to be really bad when the swelling goes down.
I swear, If I move again, it will be to a tiny house with a trailer hitch, with all my crap stuffed in it,. I am seriously to old and feeble to do this any more and I have to much crap. Maybe one of those bus campers. Definitely a bus camper. I shouldn't be allowed on stairs. 
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