From my mother, The Diva:
The Facebook still isn’t coming up on my iPad I powered off again but it just spins. So now I won’t know who likes Walmart or if a baby elephant was adopted by a mother tiger to nurse
From my mother via text…
“It’s strange that Bruce Springsteen would be looking for his gray whore,” said my mother.
I was driving my car and looked at her under the corner of my eye. She was sitting in the passenger seat. My iPhone was connected to the car and it was playing songs through the car stereo.
With a sigh, I said, “The song is called ‘my beautiful reward.’ Not ‘my gray whore.’”
My mother said, “I don’t think so.”
There was no point in arguing and I decided to let her continue thinking that Springsteen had written a song about a gray whore – whatever that might mean.
You know by now that I have a special talent for during graceful and delicate things.
I mean it’s hardly a secret.
(How’s that for foreshadowing?)
Last night, my dogs woke me up to go outside around midnight or 1 AM. It’s totally within reason from their perspective and tiny bladders; after all I think I fell sleep on the couch before 9 AM.
Anyway, after our witching-hour adventure into the backyard, I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I picked up my iPad to check email and browse all those great distractions available because of the Internet.
Pictured if you will; I’m lying flat on my back in the darkness of my bedroom with the glow of the iPad as my only source of light. I am actually holding the iPad up, above my head. I’m wearing my reading glasses, because I’m old, and I’m scrolling through one cyber Monday deal after the other email. The trash icon is getting a lot of action.
And then all of the sudden, unbeknownst to me, my iPad slips out of the case it’s in, and that I’m holding on to, and hits me directly in the face. My nose is bleeding. Blood is in my mouth. And I think my mouth is broken. There are bits of my teeth in my mouth. I can feel it.
All I can think is this is freaking unbelievable.
And ‘why do things always happen to me?’
I curse and get up, trying to get to the bathroom without getting mood everywhere between my bed and the bathroom sink. My dogs are snoozing away.
Those f-ing bastards.
I feel like there are bits of my shattered teeth everywhere in my mouth. I wasn’t sure if most of the blood was from my nose from my mouth.
I guess it really didn’t matter.
It’s 2 AM. And I have managed to hurt myself in my bed in the dark alone…
… Sure why not.
Because you have met me.
I turned on the bathroom light, trying to focus, not waiting to adjust to the light, to see to see how bad my mouth is.
And I convince myself it feels worse than it really is.
Of course, once I get the bleeding stopped and I’m back in bed, I have to Google ‘chipped tooth accident’ to find out if this is an emergency and am I going to lose my front teeth. (I am not longer holding the iPad over my head, by the way).
And then I wonder, is there a 24 hour dentist around? I mean it’s 2 AM! Not your typical dentist hours.
I’m also wondering, ‘does my insurance cover something like this?’
Can I sue Apple? I mean the product hurt me. Literally, it smacked me in the face.
I remember something about having to put missing teeth in milk.
I don’t have milk but find myself wondering if fat-free French vanilla yogurt would count? Would coffee creamer count?
In the end, it wasn’t as bad as it felt. (That may just be a lie I continue to tell myself). I have an appointment with the dentist to look into getting my teeth fixed or filed down a bit. My eyes haven’t turn black and blue yet so I don’t think my nose is broken.
And, I’ll be asking for a new iPad case for Christmas. One that’ll hold my iPad in place a bit better. No matter the angle.
Oh I got poop on my cute gloves.
- from my mother, The Diva.
My mother has been home from the hospital and rehab for a couple of weeks now. And she is getting around just fine. At first she was using a rolling walker. Now she’s using a cane.
She is also working on tricks with her cane. I assume a dance routine is next.
And are all hopeful that in a month or two she’ll be able to walk around without the cane.
Anyway, her recovery is coming along nicely, except at night, she said. Sometimes, she said, she’s so cold at night she can not ever get her feet warm and she has to take a shower just to warm up.
“Mom,” I said, “have you ever considered socks? Rumor has it they’re very good at keeping your feet warm.”