I started teaching another drug class today. On a Monday of Mammoth Misery, Mishap and Misfortune.
I didn't know it was such a Monday when I left home this morning. In fact, I didn't realize it until I got to the office. Once I arrived and popped my oh-so-healthy sausage biscuits into the microwave, I went to the water cooler to fill my cup. It was then that I looked down at my feet. It took me a few minutes to realize what was wrong, but I finally figured out that I was wearing one black boot and one brown boot.
That was the start. Things went downhill from there.
I haven't had my blood pressure medicine since Friday. Ran out and have no refills. I spent the morning trying to call my doctor's office every time I had a moment. Took me half the morning before I got anything other than a busy signal.
I was in such a hurry to make it to work this morning following my masochism catechism class at the YMCA, that I forgot my rings. That was one of the few happy accidents of the day, because no doubt they wouldn't have fit on my swollen fingers. Did I mention I ran out of blood pressure medication?
At the end of the day, I rushed out of the office to go pick up aforementioned medication and a sleazy burger that I could gulp down before class started. I careened into the oddly angled CVS drive-thru and screeched to a halt inches from the pharmaceutical window, where I demanded my drugs. The nice little chemist tried to hand me one package.
"There should be two," I said - somewhat panicky. "One I called in Saturday and one the doctor's office called in today."
"They did call one in, but it's the same one you called in."
They called in the wrong prescription! I was briefly incensed until the whole thing became tragically moot when I realized that I had no money. I lost my debit card holder thing-y. Couldn't find it anywhere. Had no cash and no checks. I never have cash or checks because I live and die by the debit card. Which I had lost.
Furious, I peeled out of the drive-thru and headed for my house, trying to remember the last time I had it. I found it in the pocket of a recently worn jacket. Managed to make it back to town in time to grab the burger, snarf it successfully and get the class set up.
In all my above whining, did I mention my back has been nagging at me for the last couple of weeks? No? Well, it has. And tonight, two hours into the class, I dropped my dry erase marker. I didn't really have a pressing need for the dry erase marker. But they won't allow me to carry a security blanket a la Linus Van Pelt - well, maybe they would, I haven't asked - so I always make do with carrying a dry erase marker while I teach. I needed it. And it was way down on the floor.
I knew I couldn't bend my knees to pick it up. I can't actually bend my knees for the first two days after M. C. class. So, I bent from the waist and swooped down to grab it up off the floor. I'd like to point out that thanks to my snazzily well stretched hamstrings - thank you pilates - this was not a problem and I had the magical marker back in my hand in the blink of an eye.
But I couldn't straighten up. My back was stuck.
I grabbed the edge of the podium and finally pulled myself back up to a standing position and managed to stymie the rasping gasp that tried to leak out of the sides of my mouth. Thankfully, the class didn't last much longer. I'd already decided it was time to wrap it up and get the hell out of Dodge.
Why, you ask?
Because, at the point when we were discussing the history of drug use, and I was supposed to talk about the rise of designer drugs in the 1980s, I was going to make a point about the drugs crack and ice.
I said "crack and ass".