when there just isn't enough coffee

well it's monday, right? and though we all know that this happens - every week, mind you - we still show up cranky and crabby and bitter that it's happening. you know when i didn't hate mondays? when i was a bartender. in college. over the summers.

but i digress.

i'm writing this while i wait for a conference call to start. because everyone is in such a bad mood, it was decided that we'd all conference from our desks [no lie] while we talk to these folks in minneapolis. my guess, actually, is that someone's assistant forgot to schedule the conference room, but i'm NOT back-seat assisting. believe me, i'm not.

so before this becomes the most boring blog-entry ever, i will converse with myself about where i've been for the past few months.

so where in the world have you been, bex butler?
i got the death flu in late june. and -

i'm sorry to interrupt, but the death flu? really?
yes, the death flu. i couldn't get out of bed. i had a fever. i couldn't keep any food down, or around, me. i lived on flat gingerale and saltines for 3 weeks. i think i lost some weight.

you have been looking svelte lately.
thank you. you've been looking pretty cute yourself, you know.

thanks.
sure.

so...
right, so, i was just getting over the death flu and was feeling really pretty good and i was in the shower and was listening to the radio and the umbrella song came on -

which you hate.
well...i say that i hate it but secretly it's a damn catchy song. have you listened to it?

i try not to. i can't believe you admit that you like it.
ANYWAY. i was boogying in the shower - because i felt so much better [have you lived on saltines and flat gingerale for more than an hour? it's terrible. seriously.] and the song came on and i was sorta shaking it and i slipped and, um, fell and well...

you hurt yourself, didn't you?
i broke my wrist.

you're an idiot.
that's what my doctor said.

and i don't have an m.d.
you don't even have an m.a.

true. though i didn't fall in the bathtub and break my wrist.
so once i broke my wrist i couldn't really type. i considered getting someone to blog for me, because honestly, i fell in my shower dancing to the umbrella song. it's funny. as soon as i stop being mortified, it's funny. i mean, i went to the emergency room in sweat pants and my pajama top soaking wet.

how IS the emergency room in new york city?
it's both better and worse than you think. there were a fair amount of people there that seemed like this was just how they went to the doctor. granted, gunshot victims probably get a separate entrance than walk-ins, but nobody seemed in any sort of dire emergency. i sat there for awhile watching cnn. in pain. trying not to cry.

admit it. you cried.
a little bit. but on the walk over. not there.

you walked to the er?
i didn't know the address and so wasn't sure what to tell the cab driver.

god, you're an idiot.
hey now.

so...
so my roommate came and brought me gatorade and pretzels and i got a little cast and went home and called work and got some great pain medication and watched high school musical on tv.

i can't take any more of this.
fine. i'm late for a meeting anyway.