This girl needs a bubble

That "girl" would be me. And, as my sister pointed out, that "bubble" would need to be a sparkling clean one.

I've slowly come to face the fact that the older I get, the clumsier I get. And, this is not a good thing people. This does not 'get better with age' because my body doesn't want to heal like it should.

Just a couple of years ago, I slipped and twisted my ankle. Then, because I was stubborn, I ended up fracturing my ankle and then getting tendinitis. This put me in a walking boot for 18 weeks.

Shortly after getting out of the boot, I broke my toe. This brought crutches to my life. I.Hate.Crutches.

I seem to constantly be walking in to walls. I drop things on my feet all the time. I cut myself. I pull muscles. It's never ending.

Then, last month, I was trying to move Jamie's older motorcycle out of my way. It has been in the driveway ever since the new motorcycle moved in to the garage. And believe me when I say this "I will NEVER, EVER try to move a motorcycle again." Those things are heavy!!! So heavy that I had to call The Hulk in me to get it back up. That was between sheer panic that Jamie would come home and yell at me, and the huge welt forming on my calf where the bike hit me. (I did get the bike back up without completely blowing a vein in my neck.)

And wouldn't you know it, just a couple of weeks ago I tripped out in the garage. Tripped! But the long story is...

There is so much s*it in the garage because the Viper and new motorcycle are out there. And nothing, I mean nothing, is allowed to be near them. I was trying to carefully move stuff out of the garage so that I could get to the paint brushes hiding behind piles of other crap. ** As I turned around, the handle of the wagon fell over, causing me to trip. And because my quick-thinking-mind knew that if I landed on his Viper I would be in A LOT of trouble, I threw myself the other way. Unfortunately, this only landed me on the new motorcycle. To be more exact, this landed my chest on the tail light of it and then directly to the garage floor on my knees.

I quickly had bruises and scratches to match the welt still growing on my calf from just the week before. There wasn't a bruise on my chest, only a lot of pain. Like I couldn't bend over without feeling like my heart was going to explode. Deep breaths, nope...none of those the last couple of weeks! And sneezing, could just about kill me at this point.

Fast forward to today. After almost 3 weeks of pain, lots of ibuprofen and a talk with Jamie, I called the doctor. To sum it all up, I didn't end up breaking the ribs, just internally bruising myself. (And possibly a shaking head from the doctor.) I'm supposed to see a chiropractor on Monday to 'adjust' some things in my shoulder to hopefully allow my chest to heal correctly in 3 - 6 more weeks. 3 - 6 more weeks...sigh...

In the mean time, we'll head up to the lake and get some work done. I'll try to be careful. I'll try not to work my left side too much. I'll try to just heal. And then I'll continue the search for my sparkling clean bubble.

**SIDE NOTE: I should point out that Jamie 'cleaned' the garage to fit in his new toys. This only means that the stuff that is supposed to be in a garage just got piled on top of other stuff. And all of this stuff has to be kept far away from the toys. So a messy garage became even worse. I see now that this is all Jamie's fault.