We had snow in Connecticut on Thursday night. Do I hate living in New England? Yes, but that’s not the point of today’s blog post.
Some things probably important to this story: I have an extremely painful back situation going on in which I shouldn’t be driving more than, say, fifteen minutes at a stretch. And the only medication that even touches my pain also makes me loopy, so I’m not driving while taking it . . . or speaking clearly, comprehending books, those sorts of things. On the plus side, I’m much more fun to be around when I do take it.
In order to get to and from work, I’ve been commuting with a coworker. Except Thursday night, the commute home was awful in the snow. It took me an hour to make the drive from Malavika’s house to mine, and it should’ve taken twenty minutes, tops. By the time I lurched through my front door, white knuckled and hunchbacked from spasms of pain, I would’ve been okay with never leaving the house again. So Friday morning, when my left wheel spun for a just a millisecond as I pulled out of my driveway, I immediately threw the car in reverse and texted Malavika: I’m taking the day off. Then I took the medication.
The thing about this stuff is it doesn’t kick in right away. And I was still in significant pain from Thursday’s drive. Plus I hadn’t had caffeine yet. So I woke Jason up (I will neither confirm nor deny if I did this by dropping an eighteen-pound cat on his face) and snapped, “Are you working today?”
He was, but not until later. I was going to have to put up with him for at least three more hours. “Darn it! Why’d you have to get up so early?” I yelled at him.
You see, pain makes you extremely unpleasant. Let’s see if you can figure out exactly when my medication kicked in:
6:45 AM: Jason is looking at his phone. Me: “That screen is awfully bright! Can you go downstairs or something?” Jason looks around the room, in which every single light is on, and his phone is contributing exactly zero brightness, then sighs: “Fine.” Jason goes downstairs, hides in kitchen for ten minutes, then comes back up. Me: “Were you just in the kitchen?” Jason: “Yes?” Me: “WHY DIDN’T YOU BRING ME COFFEE, YOU INSENSITIVE TOAD?”
7:15 AM: I’m on my third cup of coffee. It hasn’t helped my caffeine headache. Also, I hate everyone. Me: “I hate everyone.” Jason: “Gee, you hide it so well.” Me: “I HOPE YOUR NEXT WIFE THINKS YOU’RE FUNNY, YOU CONTEMPTIBLE TURD!”
7:22 AM: Jason puts on a trailer for a Christmas movie coming out on Netflix next month. For those of you who are unaware, Christmas is my least favorite holiday. Me: “What. Is. That.” Jason: “Uhhhh . . . Kurt Russell? As Santa?” He practically whispers Santa.
Me: (giggling) “Kurt Russell is funny.”
You’ll be happy to know we survived our day together. And I shouldn’t get mad at Jason—he’s been very thoughtful during this ordeal. Why, he even set an alarm on his watch to make sure I take my medication right when I’m supposed to. Isn’t that sweet?
Some things probably important to this story: I have an extremely painful back situation going on in which I shouldn’t be driving more than, say, fifteen minutes at a stretch. And the only medication that even touches my pain also makes me loopy, so I’m not driving while taking it . . . or speaking clearly, comprehending books, those sorts of things. On the plus side, I’m much more fun to be around when I do take it.
In order to get to and from work, I’ve been commuting with a coworker. Except Thursday night, the commute home was awful in the snow. It took me an hour to make the drive from Malavika’s house to mine, and it should’ve taken twenty minutes, tops. By the time I lurched through my front door, white knuckled and hunchbacked from spasms of pain, I would’ve been okay with never leaving the house again. So Friday morning, when my left wheel spun for a just a millisecond as I pulled out of my driveway, I immediately threw the car in reverse and texted Malavika: I’m taking the day off. Then I took the medication.
The thing about this stuff is it doesn’t kick in right away. And I was still in significant pain from Thursday’s drive. Plus I hadn’t had caffeine yet. So I woke Jason up (I will neither confirm nor deny if I did this by dropping an eighteen-pound cat on his face) and snapped, “Are you working today?”
He was, but not until later. I was going to have to put up with him for at least three more hours. “Darn it! Why’d you have to get up so early?” I yelled at him.
You see, pain makes you extremely unpleasant. Let’s see if you can figure out exactly when my medication kicked in:
6:45 AM: Jason is looking at his phone. Me: “That screen is awfully bright! Can you go downstairs or something?” Jason looks around the room, in which every single light is on, and his phone is contributing exactly zero brightness, then sighs: “Fine.” Jason goes downstairs, hides in kitchen for ten minutes, then comes back up. Me: “Were you just in the kitchen?” Jason: “Yes?” Me: “WHY DIDN’T YOU BRING ME COFFEE, YOU INSENSITIVE TOAD?”
7:15 AM: I’m on my third cup of coffee. It hasn’t helped my caffeine headache. Also, I hate everyone. Me: “I hate everyone.” Jason: “Gee, you hide it so well.” Me: “I HOPE YOUR NEXT WIFE THINKS YOU’RE FUNNY, YOU CONTEMPTIBLE TURD!”
7:22 AM: Jason puts on a trailer for a Christmas movie coming out on Netflix next month. For those of you who are unaware, Christmas is my least favorite holiday. Me: “What. Is. That.” Jason: “Uhhhh . . . Kurt Russell? As Santa?” He practically whispers Santa.
Me: (giggling) “Kurt Russell is funny.”
You’ll be happy to know we survived our day together. And I shouldn’t get mad at Jason—he’s been very thoughtful during this ordeal. Why, he even set an alarm on his watch to make sure I take my medication right when I’m supposed to. Isn’t that sweet?
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