Worst birthday ever.

Yesterday was my 48th birthday. My family and I will be going out to see Gabriel Iglesias next Saturday which left my birthday night free. I made plans to go out with a girl friend but for what ever reason the plans fell through.

I figured that at the very least I could grab Andrew when I got home and we could walk up to Main street and have a drink or some other celebratory gesture but when I got home I discovered that Andrew was as sick as a dog. I went to the drug store and got him some over the counter cold meds, ibuprofen and Gatorade. I gave him everything and figured that that was that as far as festivities was concerned so I changed out of my work clothes, fed the cats, cleaned out two cat boxes, then swept and vacuumed the kitchen and then sat down and watched tivo’d episodes of “That 70’s Show” with Andrew. I gave Andrew the phone and told him to call his mother and tell her happy birthday. (on the far off chance that anyone reads this who doesn't know...I have a twin sister.) About 2 hours later he finally got up and went outside. I thought he was making the call and having a cigarette but he was gone for like two hours. Here I thought he was on his death bed and he’s out gallivanting about the town. When he came back he had a birthday card for me and a can of something alcoholic to drink. (As you know it’s always good to mix cold medication with alcohol.) After he gave me the card he left again.

I fell asleep on the couch watching "CSI Miami", and at some point after that Andrew came home and fell asleep on the love seat. After I had vacuumed the kitchen I had parked the vacuum so that it abutted the end of the love seat. ( <--- important detail) At about 3:00AM I woke up and was going to go to bed. My middle of the night eyesight is horrible. Fortunately I am smart enough to know this about myself and I walk very slowly when I’m in the dark…HOWEVER when I fell asleep I knew where the vacuum was so I felt secure enough in my footing to walk at a brisk pace the 2 steps it took me to get to the area where I thought the vacuum was. For what ever in the hell reason…Andrew had moved the vacuum and I barreled right in to it. In slow motion I danced with that machine until I finally succumbed to it’s charms and allowed it to dip me all the way to the floor. As I was falling on it we both managed to go off of the step that leads in to my sunken living room. I am so lucky that I didn’t land on my head. I landed in a heap on top of the vacuum and believe me there was cussing involved. Andrew stirred on the love seat and said, “Auntie, what are you doing?” I cussed some more in response and unwrapped myself from the loving arms of the vacuum and ignored my urge to pick the thing up and heave it through a window.

I hobbled to my bedroom and layed down and felt the adrenaline wear off and felt the pain set in. I feel as though I have been hit by a truck. EVERYTHING hurts but the only place that even hints at an injury is my left thigh. What looks like varicose veins is actually a bruise that is emerging from the depths of my cellulite. It’s going to be big.