Klutz

I woke up at a fairly respectable time on Saturday morning, thank goodness, because Awesome Roommate called from what I thought was her work around 11 a.m.

"Hi! Can you come pick me up from GW Hospital?"

"What happened?!?!??!"

"Oh, I was in the otter exhibit, slipped on ice, and sliced my hand open!"

I sat in silence for a moment. She's not the klutzy one -- I am! She isn't the one who runs into things, like the couch (you know, something that never really moves and is always in the same place), and finds bruises on her legs like I do. She's the strong one - she opens jars for me :)

"Oh gosh! Yeah, just gotta throw some jeans on..."

So I get in the 'Scort and head toward GWU. I only got a little bit lost (you'd think that I'd know how to navigate that damn campus, after two years there), and managed to pick her up in one piece. She was all bandaged up and reeked of iodine. Her coat was covered in blood. And she was smiling. Apparently, the nurse was digging gravel out of her hand for 45 minutes and she didn't cry at all. Hell, I almost started bawling just listening to the recap.

We got McDonald's, because it seemed like the best solution, she popped some regular ole Tylenol, and promptly passed out on the couch for four hours. With her arm sticking up in the air. At the party that night, she walked around all night bandaged and with her right arm lifted in a right angle. It was hilarious.

And now, she's stir crazy and itching to get back to work. I hope that I someday find a job that I love that much!