Wednesday, November 16, 2011

A week of woes

That's me on the right.

What a week.
I can only pray that the gods of misfortune have garnered enough laughter from battering me around in glee, and that this particular batch of woes is exhausted for now.

If any of you were wondering where I've been the past week, then let me fill you in. Gather round kids, and feast your ears on this here tale of the damned.

Behold, MONDAY.

First things first, I burnt my hand on the coffee machine. Irritating, but not much more than that. After so much time at Max Brenner, my forearms are littered with splotches and burn marks from run ins with hulking machinery spurting out steam. Perhaps though, the burning of my paw was an OMINOUS SIGN of what was to come? I suppose we'll never know. If I were able to go back in time though and give Monday afternoon Reb a piece of advice, I'd tell her "DON'T GO DOWN BLACKBURN ROAD ON THE WAY HOME."

So. After a pretty good day at work (I didn't accidentally hang up on anyone or put my foot in my mouth), I was driving down Waverley road. Hear on the radio that there's an accident on the corner of High Street and Stud. Am pleased with myself when I decide to go down Burwood highway in order to avoid said accident. OH, THE IRONY. I'm trundling down Blackburn road in the right hand lane when A WILD CAR APPEARS.

Exhibit A. 
Exhibit B. 

Basically, some woman tried to turn into the right hand lane (or cut across every lane to get to the shops?) from a side street without bothering to look. GOOD. Let's not check to see if there's any cars coming before pulling onto a busy road from a side street. The force from our crash sent her car into the back of another car. I tried to figure out where the hell to pull over to (being that I was right in the middle of the road) and some alarmingly polite gentlemen to my rear started honking at me. I felt like getting out of the car, storming over to him and pointing out the car that had just t-boned me. He may have been hard of seeing, maybe that's why he failed to register what might have me delayed in getting out of his way. Dick.

The green machine and I limped over to the Chinese restaurant carpark on the corner and I spent the next hour or so swapping details with the other women involved and sitting by the side of the road waiting for a tow truck. I remarked that I need the car for my work, which happens to be in South Melbourne. The significant other of the woman who hit me - an optimistic guy by the looks of it - said I might be able to continue to drive it. I tried to keep my cool and pointed out the wheel that wouldn't turn, the door that wouldn't open, and the funky smell emanating from the wreckage. The car's a write-off, in case you're wondering.

I think it's safe to say that after the automobile-related incident of destruction that had just transpired, I was rather in need of a hug. Good thing then, that of late I've begun seeing someone/spending quite a bit of time with a particular fellow. This lovely and dorky gentleman caller came over to dispense hugs, ever one to be a comforting presence even if he was stricken with a sudden illness. More about that later though.

I fell down the stairs at work.

You may remember my having mentioned how awkward I was upon starting my brand-spanking new Proper Job. I can proudly announce that in the weeks that have followed that post, I have learned how to engage in actual conversation like a functioning human being with my co-workers (for the most part) without turning bright red. I felt like a great chunk of my progress was undone however, when I fell on my ass down a flight of stairs and made a very loud noise.

Always graceful. 

Every head seemed to emerge from every suite to enquire into who fell. I immediately laughed it off, and scurried back to my desk.

This tumble though, meant that I woke up on WEDNESDAY with seemingly every part of my body in pain. I'd in effect fallen down twice, as my attempt to steady myself had resulted in EXTREME FAILURE to stop myself falling any further.

As the day went on however, I was distracted from the immense pain in my back and various limbs from the ominous feeling that one gets just before one is struck by a cold. You see, when Bus Guy (as he is affectionately known within my inner circle of pals) came over, he'd warned me that he was sick. I was all like, "CHALLENGE ACCEPTED", my desire for comforting hugs far outweighing any sound reasoning in my brain regarding how contagious he might be. Is a comforting hug too much to ask for after having one's car written off?

Apparently it is.
I wandered around the office that day in an ever-thickening cloud-brain snot-filled fog, burning myself on the coffee machine (again) and saying slightly delirious and non-sensical things. So I went home. Without a car. 

Now it's Friday. Thursday was spent using up an entire box of tissues on the tap my nose has become, enduring feverish dreams, pottering around the house like a deranged zombie (my back still hurts), coughing up a lung, and marveling at how berocca and a mountain of vitamins can turn one's pee an alarming shade of fluorescent yellow. My room is a sea of tissues and soother wrappers. I've been wearing the same faded and ripped Guinness t-shirt (sorry, Mitch) and Peruvian trousers for about 60 hours or so. And the worst part (it's really not the worst part) is, I still can't find the remote for my television. First world problems I know, but MY GOD is this irritating. I guess this is one instance in which I can say that I'm glad I live in my parents' backyard. Not many things are more comforting than a mum arriving home from work to pat you on the forehead and bring you a cup of tea. 

I hate to have such a large whinge, but I think it's worth sharing the almost farcical sequence of events that have taken place over the past week. Coffee burn, car crash, ridiculous injury to back, sickness. In the space of three days. I'm just dealing with the after effects now.

Apparently I'm going to Underground Cinema tonight with the uni girls. Let's see if I survive/how many people I can infect.


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