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The saga of my lower back continues. Late Thursday afternoon I called my mother and calmly* asked her to get in her car right now and come get me to bring me to the hospital because oh my lord I could not make it another day in that pain. Needless to say, my mother did just that. That’s what mothers are for.

If you have never been to the Emergency Room, lucky you. It’s a horrible place. The triage nurses stare you down, trying to judge how much pain you are in compared with the hundred other people moaning and limping around you. Luckily, I was still sort of crying, and in a wheelchair (which I felt ridiculous in, as it was entirely unnecessary- in fact, it hurt more to sit down than to stand), but I think it at least bought me some cred with the nurses; it only took 90 minutes to get in to see someone, as opposed to the last time I went when it took 3 hours. Despite the enormous pain of sitting, I found the Emergency Room as enthralling as ever. It’s like staring at a crime scene or a car accident; you just can’t look away even though it’s nauseating to behold. There was one gentleman who looked as though he had come straight from construction site whose thumb had been severed, save for the tiniest little bit of skin. He was literally holding it onto his hand with his bandana, that was no doubt used to wipe sweat and dirt of his face all day. There was also a lady who must have had some form of elephantitis, I have never seen larger legs in my life. She was in a wheelchair as well, and she kind of gave me a sad little smile as I rolled on by her, like hey, aren’t we like two peas in a pod in our wheelchairs? Shudder. Another giant lady, clad in orange spandex shorts, demanded of my mother, “What’s she got? Back pain? Oh, they’ll give her something reaaaal good for that. You’ll see”, and she cackled very near my face, which was horrifying because there’s nothing worse than strangers invading your personal space when you’re bound to a wheelchair and can’t run away or even offer a feeble punch.

Finally, it was my turn, they gave me a shot of something in the ass, which was a first for me. C showed up, they took some x-rays, and had me wait a while longer. When the doctor came back he declared it a torn muscle, muscle spasms, and the possibility of a slipped disc. Three prescriptions later, they sent me home with an ice pack and told me to take it easy. Easy. Ha! Like I hadn’t been laying down for the past three days. Like I was suddenly going to jump up for a game of ultimate frisbee. But I did decide that I could take it easy at the beach just as well as at home, so C and I headed up to Maine for a weekend of taking it easy in the sunshine, with the ocean crashing at our feet. I also figured I could take it easy at The Police concert last night, which, by the way, was awesome. I mean, sitting in those grandstand seats at Fenway was not exactly comfortable, but it was so worth it to see Sting play Message in a Bottle and Roxanne and pretty much every awesome Police song, ever.

And today I will enjoy more nothingness, which actually seems ok, since the weather is so terrible anyway. A movie and an ice pack: sounds divine. Thanks, Vicodin!

*And by “calmly” I mean struggling to get the words out between jags of hysterical crying.

I might be out of commission for a while, folks. On Tuesday I hurt my back and today it hurts so badly I want to cry, except crying makes it worse. Seriously, I sneezed earlier and I thought I would pass out from the pain of it. I thought I’d be able to get a doctor’s appointment, but the earliest they could do is tomorrow so I’m stuck in this horrible pain until then.

I honestly have no idea what I did to it, only that nothing I’ve tried has alleviated the pain at all.  Ice? No. Heat? Uh uh. Ibuprofen? Nope. Alleve? Nada. Pillows? Nothing.

Actually, it even hurts laying like this to type. So I’m out- see you when I can sit up again.

Sometimes I wish I had a good old fashioned tape recorder on hand; then I could simply record what goes on outside my bedroom window and play it back for you. Then no one could argue that I’m just being a whiny brat because I didn’t get to sleep past 8 a.m.

After C headed off to work this morning, the following happened:

Construction vehicles rumbled down the street to start ripping up the section of sidewalk at the end of my driveway, directly under my bedroom window. They immediately began their screeching-metal-against-pavement noises, I got up to close my bedroom windows and turn the fan up to high to drown out the sound that caused my body to shudder involuntarily.

Roughly three minutes later, one disgruntled construction worker starts bleating that a chip of concrete has gashed open his cheek. Again, directly under my window. I peer out to make sure I do not need to dial 911, but one of his fellow workers begins to shout over the front-end loader that he’s going to “apply pressure to the wound” using his greasy sweat rag, which I believe I saw him using to clean out the engine of the backhoe yesterday. I shrugged and crawled back into bed.

Immediately, and from the other side of the house, I hear the distinct wails of a child who has either been maimed by wild coyotes or missed the ice cream truck; either way, it’s the same mutant crying jag I hear every day. Then I hear an adult start screeching, “I told you not to ride your Big Wheel down this hill, I told you! It’s your own fault you slammed into the fire hydrant! What did I tell you? Damn fool children! I don’t care that the wheel is busted, I told you not to ride on the street!” These shrieks set off the neighborhood’s yappy dog contingent, which continue until I get up to slam the windows shut in the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, and the guest room, effectively sealing myself in. I then slam my own bedroom door shut for good measure and throw my weary self back into bed.

Unfortunately, now that I’ve been up my eyes drifted over the piles of laundry that needed washing, the stack of papers that needed to be edited and formatted, the dirty dishes in the sink, and the five missed calls I have on my phone that need returning. I also realize that I feel vaguely hollow after devouring the 759-page Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows over a period of a day and a half, and that now I have no further adventures of Harry to which I can look forward. Then, from directly beneath my bedroom floor, I hear my landlord’s mother start shouting in Greek at her lazy ass son and I hear him slamming things around her apartment (which, I happen to know, he lives in for free). I heaved a sigh, and with a last ditch effort to continue being unproductive, I turned on my computer and dragged it into bed with me. To continue writing out my library long-range plan? No, to write this post, of course.

During my brief moments that are free from a Harry Potter-induced daze I have been keeping myself very busy, despite my claims to be doing nothing. This past weekend we drove up to Burlington for C’s band’s big-time show, which was a lot of fun even though I had woken up at the crack of dawn to be at my class and then driven 4 hours fueled only by Lo-Carb Monster drinks and iced coffee. The band sounded great, and as a bonus I got some sweet video footage of a girl in the audience who was either a) tripping on a major dose of crazy drugs, b) obsessive compulsive about twirling her hair around her fingers and shuffling her legs in time to the music, or c) special. If she did happen to be option C I might feel bad, but since I will never know for sure I figure I can laugh at the video with impunity. I also got my first glimpse into the rock n’ roll lifestyle with a backstage pass (I couldn’t bring myself to say “I’m with the band”, it sounded too much like something a groupie with bad hair would say- and believe me, there were plenty of those), but it was pretty cool anyway.

On Saturday we had a run-in with some Chunky Monkey at the Ben & Jerry’s factory on the way home. If you ever feel like hanging out in an idyllic park in the middle of the Green Mountains of Vermont with some ice cream and some very laid-back people, this place is your dream destination. Even the old ladies getting off the Canadian tour bus were too busy shoveling mouthfuls of Cherry Garcia into their gums to be bothered complaining about anything. In a word: delicious.

We returned home to our houseguests and decided on dining out and a movie in. Remember how relieved I was to escape from the land of hellish roommates last year? Well living with R is not at all like having a roommate, it’s like having a friend over for a permanent sleep-over. Seriously, last night we made popcorn balls with Fluff and maple syrup, drank wine, and watched Flash Gordon. So fun. I almost feel kind of bad, like I’m distracting her from her work (she is here to get a PhD, after all), but there’s no way to not go shoe-shopping in Harvard Square on a Sunday afternoon, is there? And C loves having my cousin Gabe around to play horrible zombie video games with and they can nerd out all they want about computer operating systems, leaving me to soldier on with my Harry Potter obsession in peace. For real though, if I could find two apartments with a conjoined staircase, I would so move into it with them. You know, if they decided to leave NYC.

Ahem.

Just sayin’.

C started his new job today after a month long vacation and I finally finished my classes and quit the gym so it’s my turn to sleep in while he heads off to work. His new company happens to be based out of Sweden and after he left this morning I had a dream that they showed him to his cubicle, which came in a flat pack box that he needed to assemble using only the directions of a stick figure miming the use of a screwdriver. I don’t suppose that really happened, but I’m anxious for news from the jobfront anyway.

Anyway, it’s fun to have from today until September 4th looming ahead of me as a blessed month of freedom. Except now it’s noon and I haven’t done anything but read Harry Potter in my pajamas and make plans with my sister to go to the beach in Maine this weekend. Part of me feels like I should be doing something more productive, the other part says eff that! It’s time to sit on your ass and enjoy it. Apparently the latter part is winning out. I blame J.K. Rowling.

There have been a series of bizarre events occuring lately at the gym. For example, having my windshield punched by a bunch of wannabe gangsters slouching their way around Cambridge because they thought it would be hilarious to scare the crap out of someone sitting in their car at a red light. Or how about being told that I was not keeping a vigilant enough eye on people when a member left their stuff in a locker without a lock and it was- shock! horror!- stolen. He then demanded that I must have seen someone leaving the gym with a black bag ( really, sir? like I don’t see 9,000 black duffel bags a day?) and rather than backing me up that this dude was stupid for leaving his stuff unlocked my manager said, “See? This is why you should never turn your back around here.”  And that, my friends, was enough. I decided I was ready to deal with the consequences of quitting and told the manager I just had too much on my plate. I thought it was a nice way of saying “I’m out- see you never”.

You read right. I quit!

So now I am once again blissfully jobless, although I do still have to finish up working on my library planning stuff and I am still in the short stories class. But whatever, at least the only laundry I’ll be folding is my own and I won’t have to see another painfully awkward man in too-short running shorts and socks pulled up to their knees talking to female gym members with a giant erection. Yeah, I know. Guys: that’s not pretty. And those shorts? Aren’t hiding anything.

I felt pretty vindicated in my departure, and since I was already cranky I was ready to put up a fight with the parking lady just because. I knew I was about 10 minutes over the allotted time and as I pulled up to her shack I could see her chatting on her cell phone. Grimly, I got out of my car and walked around the side of the shack (since she refuses to reach her arm out the window to claim the ticket) and slapped it down on the counter. She looked at the time on the ticket, looked at me, looked back down and then smiled at me and said, “No problem. You work in building? You’se all set.” I’ll admit I was a little disappointed that she took the wind out of my sails on my last day like that, but I didn’t have the heart to argue. I just stared at her, perplexed, for a few seconds, she smiled again, and I got back in my car to go home to a lovely dinner prepared by C and a surprise present from my houseguest.

Don’t you hate it when you just want something to be mad at and you’ve got nothing to work with?

In other news, I’m off to Burlington, VT after class today for C’s big rock n’ roll show. I’m holding out hope that it also means a road trip to the Magic Hat Brewery and/or a trip to the factory of the infamous Misters Ben and Jerry. Don’t worry, I’ll sample some Fossil Fuel for you.

Help! I have a dilemma.

Today I started a one-week course at my school that I think might cause my stress levels to reach the cracking point. Basically, we are cramming a semester’s worth of reading into five days and by the end of Friday we need to have a “finished product” that will then be incorporated into the middle school curriculum across the district.

So, no stress there.

Why, exactly, did I voluntarily sign up for a class that starts at 7 a.m.? Well, besides the fact that I’m a masochistic idiot that likes to be tortured, it also gives me three graduate credits that will eventually go towards my pitiful pay scale. Doesn’t sound like much of a reason, but alternatively, when I tried to talk myself out of signing up the only reason I could come up with not to do it was the fact that I had to wake up early, and I may be lazy, but I’ll be damned if I lose out on free graduate credit because I’m bitter about waking up before C.

So today I showed up and I was already feeling super stressed out. Everyone else looked so relaxed and happy, and they were all discussing how rejuvenated they felt and how nice it was not to work. The whole time they were talking I wanted to throw my notebook at their shiny smiles because I feel like I have been so much more stressed out the last month than I was all school year. I’ve been doing the library planning, working at the gym, playing super host to my cousin’s wife, traveling, and attempting to catch up with people I haven’t had the chance to see all school year.

I was discussing this with C and in typical male fashion, he laid it out in superbly black and white options: if I feel like I am doing too much, I have to give something up. What can I give up? The only thing I can see is the gym. It’s odd hours, the pay is crappy, and while it’s less than stimulating, it’s irritating to have to stand there for hours doing nothing. Here lies the problem: one of my friends kind of finagled the job for me, a friend that I also work with at school. I don’t want her to think I’m just blowing it off, and I also don’t necessarily want her judging me because I am feeling stressed out enough as it is.

My natural inclination is to suffer in silence through the rest of the summer- suck it up and finish it out like planned. Is that silly? Am I making too big a deal out of a stupid summer job? Am I a complete neurotic basket case?

Wait- don’t answer that last one.

I just thought I would share my excitement with all of you: tomorrow I am getting a private tour of Fenway Park (along with C, my cousins, and their respective spouses), where I will get to go behind the Green Monster, walk around on the field and pretend to throw a pitch, and sit in the dugout spitting chew juice into a cup. Kidding! About the chew part. The rest of it is very much true.

And then? I will watch the Red Sox annihilate the Toronto Blue Jays. Cracker Jack, here I come!

I promised you all an awards ceremony to pass the Rockin’ Girl Blogger torch; here we have it! Exciting, yes?

I’m quite sure lots of people have already snagged this award and so if I am the second (or thirty-second) girl to dub you “rockin’”, consider yourself a rock star and move on with your wild and crazy life.

Without further ado:

1. Kirsten from othersideofmyhead. This girl has my dream job doling out tastings at a winery and spends more time outdoors in a cabin on a lake than Thoreau. Also, she drives to Boston to visit, which gives her automatic rock star status in my eyes.

2. Kelli from Roaring Through My Twenties. This lovely lady started an amazing book club AND stays out till the wee hours of the morning partying in Southie like it ain’t no thang.

3. Whiskeymarie from What You Think It Is.  Not many people can make me spit my morning coffee all over my computer, but this chick has got the gift. Plus, we have many things in common, such as a deep-rooted love of baked goods and the good fortune to spend the summer vacationing.

4. Dana from CarpeDM. If you don’t know this lady, I highly recommend starting with her post about a road trip gone awry when they hit and decapitated a deer and it’s head remained in their car’s under carriage as they drove down the highway.

5. Abbersnail from Bright Yellow World. She’s honest and funny and cute and she just can’t help it that she rocks so hardcore. Drop it like it’s hot, abbers.

Congrats to all, and to those who have not yet won? You rock too. Really. High fives all around.

And for those about to rock, I salute you.

Ever have one of those days when you wake up with a terrible headache, you’re still exhausted even though you slept like 97 hours, and you’re unreasonably angry at everything? Well for me, that is today. I’m hoping that a strong cup of coffee and the promise of a weekend of doing nothing will eventually be able to lure me out of this funk but for right now, it’s all I can do not to whine to all the internet about how my left ear is still messed up from the flight the other day and how I absolutely do not want to go back into the gym today after being there till 11 p.m. last night.

It probably wouldn’t be right to complain about having some kind of sinus infection since I did just get back from vacation and all. I mean, not everyone gets to fly off to Florida at the drop of a hat and then get whisked around by various chauffeurs to places of interest. But seriously? WTF, stuffy nose? It’s not enough to torment me all winter, you have to do it in the middle of the summer as well?

I don’t want you all feeling terribly for me anyway, even though I did miss the midnight show of Harry Potter the other night because the only seats left in the theater were front row, all the way to the right and we couldn’t possibly crane our necks at that angle to see it, so after driving all the way to the IMAX and getting there an hour early, we left.

Oh, great. The manager at the gym just called to ask if I could go in an hour early. For real? You call me two hours before my shift to ask if I can go in an hour early? Thank god I didn’t pick up the phone. Whatever, gym dudes, you’ll have to reach down to the counter to get your own damn towels for one hour of the day.

And also, it’s been ridiculous– wait. Hold on a sec.

Hey! I didn’t even have the heart to finish that sentence because I already feel better. Apparently, coffee and bitching do help me! I think I’ll hop in the shower and get over to the gym. And tomorrow- rockin’ girl blogger awards ceremony. For reals.

Phew. Where to begin? I’ve been gone for so long I don’t even know how to recap my travel adventures. And I keep getting distracted by emails and phone calls and catching up on blog reading and delicious, delicious coffee. Okay, I need some organization. How about a day-by-day? That’ll spare you from my bulleted lists, at least.

Wednesday

We arrived early to the airport in Boston, boarded the plane, and were then told to get the hell off the plane because the computers weren’t working. Two hours later, we set off for sunny Florida. Kind of. We arrived to a full on rainstorm that lasted roughly the remainder of the day, which was actually ok because we spent it playing Wii games at Chris’s friend’s house and hello? MarioParty? I rocked thee. We had plans to watch the fireworks at the creepy town of Celebration (owned by none other than Disney, folks- complete with their own schools, universities, and hospitals), and it looked like they might get rained out, which was disappointing since a) I love fireworks, b) I really wanted to see what kinds of people hang out at Celebration, and c) Flock of Seagulls was playing! Eventually it stopped pouring and we decided to risk it. Thank god we did because we managed to catch I Ran (So Far Away) and an amazing set of fireworks set up by… you guessed it! Disney. Sometimes I think I want to hate Disney, but damn if they don’t have some crazy pyrotechnic skills.

Thursday

Set out for Universal Studios with C’s friend Kenny, who works there in Seuss Landing. Kenny had the mad hook up with some kind of executive Fast Pass tickets, so we walked directly to the head of lines that were 90 minutes long. We breezed through both parks, hitting up every ride we could and only melting slightly in the blazing heat and humidity. After 10 hours of running around the parks we finally decided to hit up a movie to cool off and catch a bite to eat at Margaritaville before the flick. We picked Transformers- not only was it cool as hell, but it also gave me a reason to start using “more than meets the eye” after everything, which I find hilarious. Yeah, I crack myself up. Whatever, at least I amuse myself.

Friday

C’s Dad, brother, and Dad’s girlfriend arrived bright and early to pick us up for our drive to Key West. Remember how I thought it was a five hour drive? Yeah, no. It was more like eight hours. In the backseat of a car with C and his 17 year old brother who is about 6′3 and proved that he could (and would) talk non-stop for the duration of the drive. When we finally made it to Key West I thought my ass and eardrums might never recover. Then I stepped out into the hottest, most wet air I have ever breathed in my life and discovered what life is like on the equator. It’s hot. And wet. And not in a good way. We had dinner at a quaint little place called the Hog’s Breath Saloon, where wild chickens roamed in and out of the restaurant and a drunk old man told me I had “nice gams”. We also took a walk down the famed Duval Street, which was reminiscent of New Orlean’s French quarter, only everything was key lime flavored and there were less beads.

Saturday

We woke up bright and early to head down to the Fort Taylor beach. It was roughly 98 degrees, sunny, humid, and no breeze. The only reprieve from the sun was sitting in the shade of palm trees. I thought a swim in the ocean might be refreshing, but with the water temperature at a balmy 86 degrees that idea was laughable. Chris did finally realized his dream of swimming in actual blue water. Unfortunately, the beach was so rocky it felt like walking on broken lightbulbs and the current was so strong we were tired from swimming in about 15 minutes. I did enjoy the tropical location, though- who doesn’t love palm trees and fruity drinks on the beach? We also walked around the old fort there, which was really interesting and also kind of creepy because it seemed so desolate and abandoned and dark.

Sunday

We decided to hit up some of the museums to avoid the searing heat and started off at the Pirate Soul Museum. Now, I’ve been to the Salem Witch Museum more times than I can count, and I was expecting the same hokey kind of tourist trap, but the Pirate Soul Museum was pretty damn amazing. I won’t ruin the experience for you, in case you decide to head to Key West yourself, but I give it five swashbuckling stars. We also went to Mel Fisher’s Treasure Museum, where they display the findings of sunken ship treasures, which was also pretty interesting but not as pirate-y. We skipped out on the Hemingway tour because were all museumed out, but we did stop in at the bar where Truman Capote supposedly drank himself to death. Rock on, alcoholic writers, rock on.

Monday

Woke up early again to start the long trip home. Managed to watch Beer Fest and Alpha Dog, stopped in at Downtown Disney for some ice cream, and got dropped off at the airport in Orlando. By this time I was sporting a wicked sinus problem from being in and out of the hot, wet air and the cold, dry air conditioning all week. Finally started the boarding process and we were some of the last people in line when they suddenly shouted, “Everyone off! Two hour delay!”. Why, JetBlue, why? Twice? At least this time I never even made it on the plane. After waiting for Boston thunderstorms to pass, we took off and made it home in one very tired piece.

Tuesday

I almost can’t even believe we did all that. I think Chris was the only person who actually enjoyed the heat in Florida, the rest of us felt like our lungs were being filled with hot bath water, but I did have tons of fun on the trip. It was good to finally meet Chris’s Dad and brother. It’s also very good to be home. God, I love Boston. When we got here last night it was a lovely 65 degrees and I was so happy I could cry. I don’t know what I thought July in Florida would be like- I certainly didn’t think it would be cool and dry, but I just wasn’t prepared for a constant state of sweat-sheen. We drank a lot of water and even more mixed drinks, but it was still a battle to stay properly hydrated. Daquiris helped a bit. There was tons of other stuff in between, too, like the crazy cat man street performer on the boardwalk, who kept his cats in metal boxes and made them jump through hoops of fire (I wanted to steal the cats away, but C pointed out that they wouldn’t even let me through security with a bottle of suncreen, let alone big metal cages of cats), and the night C and his brother decided to jump out of the car on the side of the road and try to smash a coconut out of a tree (this was actually successful, by the way), but I’m too tired to remember all the details, so this will have to suffice.

We also arrived home to a tray of peanut butter-walnut brownies; a gift from R, who is staying with us for the month of July while she starts her PhD program. I promised myself I would eat better now that I’m back from vacation, but I didn’t want to be rude so I ate two for breakfast with two giant mugs of coffee. (Why is there no good coffee in Florida? I don’t understand it. I should open a Dunkin’ Donuts down there, I’d be a billionaire.)

Tonight I have tickets to the midnight showing of Harry Potter at the IMAX theater, which means I’ll be up till 3:30 in the morning and then will go to work at 8:30, but seriously: it’s the Order of the Phoenix, which might be my favorite of all the books. I take my duties as librarian seriously: I must see it immediately before anyone else can spoil it for me.

Oh! And one more thing: the lovely Lala granted me a Rockin’ Girl Blogger award! I was so excited to come home from vacation to find out such an honor had been bestowed upon me. I will give the award to five others tomorrow. Thanks, Lala!

Anyway, I’m back! Hope you’re all successfully avoiding the heat.

I know, I know. I missed you too.

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