When ya gotta go….

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Sometimes you just have to go. Which, when on the road during a global pandemic, can be a challenge.

Yesterday the husband had to physically enter his office for the first time since March to pick up some paperwork, so we took the scenic route which added a half hour to the hour long drive. The sun was shining, the leaves were turning…. life was good. Until those 2 large glasses of iced tea I had with lunch kicked in.

I don’t know what’s it like in your part if the world, but here in Maine a lot of the convenience stores, gas stations and fast food places have closed their rest rooms to customers for fear of spreading the virus.

It took us 4 stops to find a Burger King that welcomed people with full bladders. And by the look of the pictures on the doors? I wasn’t the only one in dire need.

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Oh no, not again.

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I walked into the barn this morning to find my husband working on a template.

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And yes, I cringed.

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Having finished one side of the strapping on the ceiling and running out of that particular wood, he decided it was time to trim the windows.

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And while I applauded the fact he was actually going to corner them properly, I knew it wouldn’t be smooth sailing.

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One day.

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One entire day to frame two windows … because he added quarter round.

Why did he add quarter round you ask?

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Because when he first built this barn to be a… you know, barn? …there were giant gaps around the windows and nothing was air tight. Who was going to complain…. the lawn mowers?

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But now that’s it morphed into a palatial man cave, gaps must be sealed.

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And live ordinance moved.

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Framing on the outside, quarter round on the inside, and extra quarter round on the top corners…. all because he didn’t install the windows correctly the first time.

Jesus wept.

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But two windows were framed…

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And the giant bullet is back home.

To be continued…. unfortunately.

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Have you ever…

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Have you ever sat on an orthopedist’s table watching an ultra sound monitor as they stick a foot long red hot poker in your knee?

No? Well, I did yesterday morning… and oddly enough I don’t recommend it.

First it was a shot of lidocaine… which I can only describe as being injected with molten hot lava.

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Yes, exactly like that.

Holy water? Pfft. Lidocaine’s got that beat hands down… and it was only the appetizer.

A minute later the big gun came out. Cortisone, to aid in pain relief and reduce inflammation from my deep root meniscus tear.

Pain relief? After a week of beached whale status on the couch I said bring it!

Holy mother of God. I’ve had cortisone shots before, but never in a deep rooted knee injury. And let me tell you, I never want to have one there again.

I realize that screaming isn’t the best thing to do in a doctors office as it tends to make the people in the waiting room uncomfortable, but damn. I couldn’t help it. That needle kept going in, and in, and in …

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Lying bastards.

I yelped upon entry.  (Lidocaine, you suck and didn’t dull a thing.)

I squealed when it was halfway there.  (Numbing agent my ass.)

And when that foot long bastard finally got to where it needed to be? I think I was crying for my late mother.

And mind you, I’m the high pain tolerant girl who recovered from a full abdominal hysterectomy with no morphine or fentanyl because I’m narcotic resistant.

So did this torture session offer pain relief? My knee felt a little better later that afternoon.. but I woke up in the middle of the night with throbbing and swelling where I didn’t have it before. So now I’m dealing with the “temporary pain and inflammation at the injection site for 48 hours” that only a few lucky people experience.

Long story short?

It sucks to be me right now.

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Pandemic humor.

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Because if I don’t laugh, I’ll scream.

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That looks about right.

This year you’re screwed no matter which way you go.

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Karen.

That slut ruins everything.

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Admit it, we’ve all been there.

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This literally made me snort.

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I’ve been hearing banjo music for a while now…

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That’s a pretty accurate representation of my year. How about you?

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One can only hope.

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You first. I’ll hold your purse….

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I’m ready to cry Uncle.

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First it was not at all temporary temporary doors. Then insulation and a ceiling and new light fixtures and floor moulding and quarter round.

Now?

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The husband is installing strapping to cover the plywood ceiling seams.

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Technically this is finish work. And we all know that is not where his talents lie.

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Was the strapping straight?

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Not so much.

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Of course when I helpfully pointed that out, I got booted from the barn/man cave/Maine Taj Mahal.

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When I went back 2 hours later? He informed me the strapping wasn’t right and needed to be redone.

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Hmm. Why didn’t I think of that?

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Cutting and more cutting.

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Cutting around the light fixtures I tried to tell him to center 2 weeks ago.

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But all the cutting resulted in straighter lines.

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Aggravating? No doubt.

But…

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We did have gorgeous fall foliage in the background so I’ll call it a win.

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Another classic.

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Yes, the husband found another classic horror film while eating lunch the other day.

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The Green Slime, circa 1968. By the time I tuned in the slime had turned into tentacled creatures…

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And the perfectly coiffed nurses were desperately trying to save the injured.

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The creatures were relentless. Think Jehovah Witnesses…. they never give up.

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There was hand wringing and high pitched shrieking and numerous quivering lips.

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But never fear ladies, the hero has a high tech gizmo cart which will save the day.

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Only it didn’t…

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And the space station was soon in peril.

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Mission control had no answer.

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So an escape pod was launched.

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But no! There were creatures outside ready to block its path.

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Cue the hero and his handy dandy ray gun… he barbecued them.

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And then, just when you thought it was safe…. creatures were interfering with lift off on the bridge.

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Our hero battled bravely…

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Or maybe he experienced an interstellar orgasm, it’s hard to tell…. either way, he sacrificed himself for the greater good. The pod escaped.

And the station with all the burning creatures went down in flames.

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Yes sir.

A classic piece of cinema.

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They give souvenirs now.

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My MRI was today… and after they made me strip naked and dress in scrub pants that were 3 sizes too small and double hospital johnnys that were 12 sizes too big, they did their thing on my knee.

A solid half hour of cacophony later, I got a souvenir.

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I know they give you ultrasound pictures of your baby in utero, but I’m not sure I’ll be having a look at all the fluid on River’s knee reveal party anytime soon.

And yes, though I’ve gotten the swelling down with elevation and ice packs, there’s still a lot of fluid where fluid shouldn’t be.

Good news? No torn ligaments and minimal damage to my MCL.

Yay!

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Bad news?

My meniscus tear is a deep root tear which is more serious, slower to heal and could require surgery.

Boo.

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But I did a zoom meeting with my orthopedist when we got home and she said we’ll try to avoid that.

More ice, more exercises and a cortisone shot next Friday to speed up healing so I can do more load bearing.

Load bearing? I know I’m a bit overweight, but that seems a trifle harsh.

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Natural beauty.

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Have you ever noticed how quickly sunsets change?

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I see a pretty one out the window…

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And by the time I grab my camera it’s almost over. Rather like life….

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Fall came early this year.

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And while I do love the colors, peak foliage came too soon.

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What was supposed to pop in October, popped in September.

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And as much as I’m ready for this year to be over, this is one part I wish would last a little longer.

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Real time at Casa River.

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So this is my life.

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I elevate, ice, read, and groan every time I have to move. Not how I envisioned spending my favorite time of year.

The foliage is peak, the temperatures are blissfully cool and I’m stranded on the couch like a beached Beluga.

There are very few good things to report when you’ve torn your meniscus and damaged your MCL, but one must take solace where one can.

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My husband feeling guilty for his mobility and finally installing the new blinds in the office? The ones that have been sitting next to his desk for the last 3 months?

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My husband breaking the special order extra wide curtain rod for my Waverly valance after I told him to be careful because they’re tricky to take down? Because he has no patience for anything the least bit domestic and never thinks I know what I’m talking about? Because he was cursing a blue streak as he tried to tape it back together?

Solace for a couch bound whale wife.

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Please excuse the 2 six packs, 5 bottles of wine and the jug of premixed cherry limeade margaritas in the corner.

My liquor cabinet is full… and Jeff Bezos can only do so much.

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