Sunday, March 14, 2010

Lowest of the Low

Forward: Mom, Dad, family members (besides Jack) and friends of my parents who read this, I understand I just wrote about how I like when you all ready my blog, but today, I don't think you should read this post. I know you will anyway, but don't say I didn't warn you.

This weekend I wanted to have a low-key weekend. The Family is gone skiing so I had the house to myself, Friday I stayed in applied for jobs and lazed about. Saturday I applied for jobs and organized my Gmail account (Kristen you'd be so proud), but had plans to meet up with some au pairs for dinner around six. We have a great time at dinner and head over to the "au pair bar" (i.e. cheapest beer/wine in Switzerland) where I share two bottles of wine with my friend Sarah. After that We go to one more bar and I have a beer, so, for me, it wasn't a copious amount of alcohol. I made it onto my 10:50 pm bus, proud of myself for not having spent a lot of money that night and make the journey home. About 1/4 of the way though I start to feel sick. Like if-this-bus-keeps-bumping-I'm-going-to-vomit sick. I decide that I have to get off. Now. So I press for the next stop and get off the bus. And by get off the bus I mean immediately fall out of the bus. More embarrassed than anything I stand up and realize, I can't stand up. There is something wrong with my left foot. Super. So now I have to wait for a half hour for my next bus and my foot hurts.

Naturally my next train of thought is not to sit and wait at this stop, but to walk for a half hour to one of the stops down the road. And by walk, I mean limp. I reach down to brush off my knees when I realized I had two gaping holes in my favorite pair of black, skinny, J.Crew jeans. I could hardly walk (didn't throw up by the way, the fresh air made me feel a lot better) but I was much more upset about my pants. So the first thing I thought to do was to call Howie, who bought me the pants when I visited her in Chicago over Christmas. (Note to Jill: International calls from you pay as you go phone are expensive.) As I was hobbling along I thought to myself: this is a new low, even for me.

Once I finally make it home, at which time my foot is in a constant state of pain, I barely change into my p.j.'s and grab some ice packs to stick around my elevated foot and try to fall asleep. I wake up around six feeling like crap and a half, try to get out of bed to go to the bathroom and cannot. I had to crawl, yes crawl, up the stairs and into the bathroom. It felt so nice in there that I pulled a B.J. and laid down on the bathroom floor (thank goodness the cleaning lady had come the day before!). I realized that napping on the bathroom floor because it hurt too much to move, was definitely a newer low. I am definitely grateful the family wasn't here to experience this.

I've gotten to the point where I can put some pressure on it and kind of drag my foot, hunchback style, as I walk and I no longer need to crawl up the stairs (just hop and drag myself using the railing--it's really graceful I can assure you) so it's improving!

However, I am still upset about my jeans.

1 comment:

  1. don't worry girlfriend! you're not alone on the lowest of low. aaaaaand ripped jeans are way trendy in america - or there are great ladies in minnesota who can patch the shit out of anything and they'll look great. keep them and let me know when you get home!

    love, one of your biggest fans.

    ps thanks for the shout out! :)