Hey Internet! I know what you are thinking – no, I didn’t intend to return to blogging to rebrand, write two posts, and then disappear. That’s totally what I did, but it wasn’t my intention. I jumped back into blogging at the end of a one month break in between graduation and starting my new job. After my last post I started said job, my mom flew in for two weeks, I single handedly planned a bachelorette party to take place in a different state, and flew home to be in a wedding.
I’m tired is what I am saying.
And I am writing this on the floor of an airport. Like the classy broad I am.
The last two weeks have been NUTSO and I just barely survived. But instead of telling you about my exhaustion level, I’m going to paint you a picture with my words and tell you about one specific incident.
At the end of my first week of work I wore a dress with some ties on the front. Olly, ever the attention whore and string lover, decided the best way to help me get ready for work was to jump for the strings with his nails out while I was getting dressed. I ended up with what basically amounted to a puncture wound on my stomach. It hurt like a mother but I had to get to work, so I walked it off and kept going.
This whole thing is his fault.
Jump to the next morning, my puncture wound is bright red and hurts a bit. I do the responsible thing my mom taught me to do – lots of Neosporin and a Band-Aid – a fun Oh Joy! For Target Band-Aid. I was wounded but I could still have fun!
The next few days I maintained the same routine. Everything was going fine, except I had this new longer sore right next to my puncture wound – I wasn’t sure where it came from, but it hurt a but so I added some Neosporin and an additional Band-Aid to the situation.
Cut to last Wednesday. I am staying the night in my mom’s hotel room because I am meeting her straight from the airport the next day and we had a lot of stuff to distribute between our suitcases. I am EXHAUSTED. I had been working long days to make up some of the hours I was missing Friday, I had been meeting up with my mom for dinner at theme parks and resorts all week. We had stayed in the Magic Kingdom to watch the new (AMAZING) firework show that night. I had dragged my heavy bags from my car to the hotel room (a bit of a trek when you are weighted down) and I just didn’t want to move ever ever again. I needed to wash my hair, but I could just not muster the motivation. I helped my mom pack while I ate some Nutella gelato (thank you Port Orleans- French Quarter!) and then all I had left to do was shower.
As part of the shower preparation process I ripped off one of the Band-Aids I was wearing on my stomach, and with it came off a not an insignificant amount of skin. (And suddenly I knew where that mystery wound had come from). It is hard to drive home how painful this was and how much skin it removed – it was bad. You know when you lose so many layers of skin that the wound kind of starts to ooze? Not puss, but just… body liquid? That’s what it was. It hurt. A lot. (I’m trying to emphasize this because nobody has seemed to take this story seriously until I lift my shirt or send them a picture, and then the universal reaction has been “OH MY GOD HOW DID THAT HAPPEN??” And I’ve had to be like “I literally just told you.” I would show you pictures, but the internet is forever. If you know me well enough to have my phone number text me and I may send you the photographic evidence. If not, you are just going to have to take my word for it.)
Anyway. I’m in pain. I’m exhausted. The act of washing my hair already seemed daunting without the added element “if this wound gets hit by streams of water I will literally scream.” I STILL HAVE ONE BAND-AID ON MY STOMACH AND IT IS EQUALLY AS STUCK. Everything in the world is horrible and it will never be ok ever again.
So that is how I ended up walking around a hotel room, pretty much naked, crying while I shoveled half-melted Nutella gelato into my mouth… I may not actually have my life even slightly mastered is what I am saying.
Epilogue: I ripped the other Band-Aid off after holding a wet washcloth over it. It took off less skin, but still a good amount. I used some dry shampoo instead of washing my hair and I went to bed without doing basically anything else. My wounds are scabbing over and itch a bit but I will survive… I am such a brave soul.
Anyway, have you ever been practically maimed by something that was supposed to help you? How did you deal with it?