Hit Me With Your Best Shot...But Only Metaphorically

It has been confirmed that I have sustained a concussion. I hasten to add it was through no fault of my own therefore it did not occur as a result of any risk taking behavior. This means the story of how I sustained said concussion is just not very interesting so I need your help to polish it up and make it worthy of the symptoms and the orders to rest.

The orders to rest are somewhat at odds with the flurry of activity in the next 2 weeks surrounding Diana's impending graduation and party, Calypso's Sweet 16 party, the end of Isaac's baseball season, and the arrival of my mother-in-law on Saturday. I am also still waiting to hear if I got the job I applied for. I am told I am in the final running and my references are being checked before my file is forwarded to the diversity office.

I have declared today pajama day with a general moratorium on driving the mom taxi...mostly. So give me an exciting story to go with the foggy brain I have sloshing around in my skull. Be creative. Be outlandish. Make me heroic. Make me astounding. Feel free to include Hugh Jackman.

How Pathetic Am I?

I painted my bedroom this weekend. I did the ceiling on Friday and two coats of paint on the walls on Saturday. After I finished I watched the Olympics. I saw the 38 year old winner of the women's marathon do extra laps in victory AFTER running 26.2 miles. Then I watched the women's swimming where 41 year old Danna Torres won a silver medal. On Sunday my legs ached ridiculously....because I alternated between getting up and down off a chair and squatting down to the floor to cut in the ceiling and walls before rolling paint on the walls, Oh, and I shoved some furniture around so I could get at the walls. I was sore from painting and these women didn't even look like they broke a sweat after their massive expenditures of energy.

Last week I was offended because when I went to the grocery store on Tuesday I was offered the senior citizen's discount (for age 55 and older) even though I won't be 40 until October (Mind you when I am 55 I will be perfectly content to look like I am 55 but at my current age I am less than thrilled to be told I look 16 years older than I am. When I am 55 I will be unhappy if someone assumes I am 71.). I'm thinking if painting makes me sore while other women my age are winning Olympic medals seemingly effortlessly maybe I should go back for the discount this week.

Either that or I should lobby the IOC to make house painting an Olympic Sport.