A Blur

So my entire weekend was a blur. I wrote a ton of freelance articles for an education website - all about tax and accounting. I completed my tax return AND my calculation for quarterly tax estimate - ugh. And I did laundry - yea, no commando this week! I didn't have any assistance with the articles or the tax return, but I did have a laundry helper. He works for caramel Bugles, so he's cheap labor.

Here, we are separating solids and whites. He prefers solids.

Last week, I had a minor surgery. I have been taking hormone shots every three months for years - yes, I'm hormonal. So my doctor wants me off the shots and to try something new as she thinks it will help me loose weight. I tried to explain to her that if I'd put down the keyboard and the cheeseburger I'd probably loose weight, but she is convinced. So now, I have a hormone implant in the inside of my upper arm. Basically, it's a plastic rod shoved underneath my skin.

The actual insertion didn't hurt, just stung a little, but I have a high tolerance for pain, so no biggie. Driving to work the next day was a whole other issue. Do you have any idea how tender the inside of your arm is? And how many nerve ending there are? Or how much it hurts when a tiny plastic rod presses into the ugliest bruise on record?

The jiggling while driving would periodically send shooting pains in my arm. The kind that make you involuntarily go "aaaahhhh" but not yell. Then some butthead pulled right out in front of me and I had to slam on my brakes. Well, brake-slamming is often accompanied with tensing one's body and yep, I am pretty strong, so my healthy biceps shoved that plastic rod directly into the bruised skin at a high rate of speed and pressure.

I let off a string of cussing that would have made sailors blush. Heck, I even made up a few words. I must have looked like I could kill, because the person who pulled out in front of me actually pulled off the shoulder of the road and gave me the "I'm sorry" wave. They probably thought I was going to shoot them. I have to admit, it's probably a good thing that the only weapon I was equipped with at the time was my mouth.

My boss was suitably horrified with the bruise and commiserated on the cussing. I should have put in a bid for open bar in our cubicles while I had her in my pocket, but I hadn't fully recovered from the braking yet.

So how about you? Any big accomplishments this weekend? Anyone have a weekend off? I've forgotten what a day off looks like. Anyone care to explain??????

Deadly (hormonally challenged) DeLeon