Feel Sorry For Me

Some say accidents happen for a reason. Some say accidents are your subconscious way of getting attention. I say blogging about an accident is a better way to get attention. It wasn't anything major. Not even bloggable really. Though I am using this post more as a test to see if I can type minus the use of my middle finger. It's a bit trickier than I thought. It's so much harder to flip people off while I type.

Curling up with a good book is highly overrated. I should have stayed holed up in my apartment. That was the plan, but I was hungry. The contents of my cupboard and refrigerator add up to a bag of flour, some stale tortilla chips, a bottle of Champagne and some jello. It was best I didn't attempt a casserole with the ingredients at hand. Especially since the fire...thats another story.

I journeyed out for coffee and something to eat. On my way back I stopped at Easy Street Records. I went to open the poster laden door as another woman was coming out. We couldn't see each other through the posters but I'm sure she could hear the crack of my knuckle that seemed to reverberate throughout Lower Queen Anne. She apologized. I said "That's okay" holding back the tears.

Now here is the strange part of the story. These two frat boy dumbasses hyped up on something are jumping up and down on the escalator to Bartells (yes I was too lazy to walk up a block...I took the escalator) One dumbass turns to me and goes "HIGH FIVE"
I, with my throbbing middle finger on one hand and hot coffee in the other, say "no". Dude gets mad and screams "HIGH FIVE, BITCH!"and follows me through the parking lot. I thought about high fiving him with the hot coffee but thought better of it. Luckily he lost interest and started accosting one of those cute Queen Anne ponytail girls. You know the ones that can take there faces off and it's all wires and stuff behind it...but again, that's another rant.

So here I am. Wondering if this warrants another trip to urgent care. I was there yesterday morning as well. I am not the type to go to the doctor for every little thing. I usually sit home and obsess, convincing myself that I have every disease I see on 60 minutes. I am the girl that was totally convinced I had arm cancer the day after going bowling...cuz my arm hurt. I rarely go see a doctor. So going to the Group Health Urgent Care facility twice in one weekend is...well kinda ridiculous. Like me.

Hmm that was a pretty long post with only nine fingers.