Greased

Since this morning's entry was so bleak, I thought it deserved a follow up. I'm feeling better. Still a little not myself, but moving towards normal. I didn't have a treat, since I think that a big part of this stupid crazy craziness has to do with the fact that I was eating wheat, dairy and sugar this month. A lot of it. The last time I went off those things hardcore, I stopped with the PMS altogether.

I also went to yoga, which would have been more relaxing if I hadn't sprained my toe. Yes, that's right, I hobbled myself doing yoga. After I caught my breath, I laughed pretty hard.

This has happened before. Once, when I was probably 17 or so, my friend Teresa and I got all stressed out and crabby with each other because we were running way late to pick up Erin to go camping and one of us had forgotten something. And she'd packed the trunk like some kind of numbskull, so my stuff wouldn't even fit, never mind Erin's stuff, and guess who had the tent? We were both digging around in the trunk, trying to fix the mess.

She, I guess, gave up and stood up. And, somehow not noticing I was still futzing away, slammed the trunk down. On my head. And then, when it didn't shut, right away, with no break, she slammed it down harder. Still, again, on my head.

I reeled back, staggered, and fell onto my front lawn. She ran over, stood over me, apologizing like mad, her words pricks of light on the backs of my eyelids.

It was so ridiculous, the whole damn thing, that I started laughing, belly guffaws, and then she started laughing, belly laughs too, and tipped over onto the lawn beside me, and I was holding my head, and she was holding my head, and we were laughing and crying and laughing. And still late, but it didn't really matter because what we lacked in promptness, we made up for with hilarity.

Thanks, you all, for being so nice.