Waiting around wouldn't be nearly so tedious if Nurse Gunshow-Tightpants did some demonstrative yoga
I have a fractured pelvis. Much as that declaration deserves jazz hands, it's old news. It occurred the Wednesday before Halloween and hasn't given me trouble for about a week. Apparently, when not giving a fair impression of a tank, I'm like Legos, I break apart, but go back together just as easily.
So, how did this unfortunate event occur? Reader's Digest: On my bike, I'm pedaling, still pedaling, stand up to get more downward "oomph", while sitting back down one of the pedals rotates, my foot slips off the pedal and, because I was SITTING down and thus still had a considerable amount of body weight still on both feet, slams into the ground, bike keeps going, body stays with foot, bike doesn't make it far, slam-skid, and I get a fractured pelvis. As I'm sure you can deduce, there isn't really a caste for such a thing and it's not surgery worthy, so I got sent home with the tried-and-true method of a bottle of painkillers and sleep. They gave me Hydrocodone, life was pretty damn good.
Now, nothing's happening. I'm getting fat. Emily vehemently denies this, but the evidence speaks for itself. I need to sign up for classes, but have to first take the placement test for German. I'm also probably going to be a housekeeper, I'm just type-A enough.
My parents deposited money into my account and I feel like a worthless and shameful mooch that is blighting their existence with my life of excess. I think it'd be more amusing if I didn't sincerely feel that way. I've resolved to keep it for Christmas Money if I am wanting for funding to purchase presents, as this is the most reasonable cause I can find.
So, how did this unfortunate event occur? Reader's Digest: On my bike, I'm pedaling, still pedaling, stand up to get more downward "oomph", while sitting back down one of the pedals rotates, my foot slips off the pedal and, because I was SITTING down and thus still had a considerable amount of body weight still on both feet, slams into the ground, bike keeps going, body stays with foot, bike doesn't make it far, slam-skid, and I get a fractured pelvis. As I'm sure you can deduce, there isn't really a caste for such a thing and it's not surgery worthy, so I got sent home with the tried-and-true method of a bottle of painkillers and sleep. They gave me Hydrocodone, life was pretty damn good.
Now, nothing's happening. I'm getting fat. Emily vehemently denies this, but the evidence speaks for itself. I need to sign up for classes, but have to first take the placement test for German. I'm also probably going to be a housekeeper, I'm just type-A enough.
My parents deposited money into my account and I feel like a worthless and shameful mooch that is blighting their existence with my life of excess. I think it'd be more amusing if I didn't sincerely feel that way. I've resolved to keep it for Christmas Money if I am wanting for funding to purchase presents, as this is the most reasonable cause I can find.