April Showers bring May Showers

It’s raining. Just like yesterday—which was actually not so bad, since it gave me an excuse to sit inside for several hours drinking coffee and reading the newspaper online. I suppose one doesn’t need an excuse to do that on a Sunday morning, but I excel at obsessing over the things I should be doing, like enjoying nice weather, brushing up on my French, or becoming a neurosurgeon.

One must have goals. The neurosurgeon thing is not actually a goal—shocking, I know—but it does make me think of the time I told my college guidance counselor that I wanted to take an intermediate psychology course focused on the brain, and she shook her head and told me to take Physics for Poets. Which I did, along with the entire Wisconsin football team.

Anyway. The rain, and our lack of real plans, kept us close to home this weekend. On Friday, we went across the street to an Italian restaurant and carbo-loaded for the weekend of couch sitting that was ahead of us. After dinner, we walked back into the apartment building, chatting with Johnny, the chatty doorman. I was looking back to say good night to him as I stepped into the elevator, and—whack!—the door slammed shut, right on my head. Dazed and totally embarrassed, I stepped quickly into the elevator, as three people groaned in pain for me and tried to make sure I was ok. Blood was pouring from my head, so I can understand their concern.

Inside, Rob flew into night nurse mode, getting me a towel filled with ice and some anti-inflammatory pills. “What are these?” I made a face as he held the blue pills in front of me. I hate taking pills. But the bossy nurse said I had to. Fine.

I inflamed up, despite the medication, and had a nice bump along with my cut. It’s pretty much settled down now, and I only kind of look like Frankenstein.

For this, I blame (in order):

-the elevator company
-the weather, for making me lethargic, and therefore less able to react with a speedy Matrix-style leap to safety
-the pasta, for adding to the lethargy
-my college guidance counselor