So my mom's move is, for the most part, complete. Now it's just cleaning the old place and arranging and organizing at the new place.
And my move? How kind of you to ask. Yeah, I haven't made too much progress. I started with the front closets. I did take a before picture, so I'll have that for you eventually. I got them emptied. So, in other words, I moved out of them. Out to all over the dining room and living room.
Aaaaannnndd, that's pretty much where it stands. I got a few things put back in. But mostly now there's crap all over the place. What can I say, it was a nutty week.
So last week I was getting ready to take the dog out in the afternoon. Pretty routine. It's been stupid cold here, and it's a bit of a pain to get all bundled up just to take the dog out for 45 seconds. So I've been clever and slipping hubby's big boots on to go out. And this time I discovered why that's a bad idea. Happy jerked on his leash and I sort of spun around before I could lift up my big-booted feet. I fell down, twisting my knee on the way, and sprained it.
Holy bananas, it hurt. Not instantly, but by the end of the end of the evening I could not put ANY weight on it. The next morning we went to the Emergency Room and found out it was a sprain. I came home with an eye-sore of a brace called the "leg immobilizer." Perfect. And I had so very much to do over the next few days, moving my mom. My knee felt much better in the hideous device, but wow was it awkward. I walked like a peg-legged pirate, but with zero percent of the cool factor.
And I am not known for my grace.
Here's where it got interesting. So the hubby took off to run some errands, and I was left at home with the kiddos and my hopes that I would heal miraculously fast so that I could get back to helping out my mom the next day. And as I said before, it's stupid cold. So the kids are trapped in the house, and they're bored. A has been itching to try an experiment he learned about at school where you can make your own rock candy. I decided I could handle helping him try that.
You boil THREE CUPS of sugar with one cup of water, making a thick syrup. He decided he wanted to make it cooler looking, and we added a few drops of BLUE food coloring. (are you getting ahead of me yet?) After you boil it and the sugar is all dissolved, you put the pot in the fridge until you get it to around room temperature. So far so good.
Then I went to check the temperature of it. I hobble to the fridge, open the door, and grab the handle of the pot.
And lost my balance.
Flipped the pot out of the fridge. In my memories, the pot goes flying in the air and spins around several times before bouncing on the floor and spinning to a stop, but I have a feeling it wasn't that dramatic. The end result, however, was that bad. There was BLUE SUGAR SYRUP All. Over. The kitchen. And me and my hideous peg leg. IN MY EYES, PEOPLE! And my new, mostly white kitchen! Oh, the horror.
So I start hollering like a lunatic at the kids: KIDS! QUICK! GRAB TOWELS! GET THEM WET! WE NEED TO CLEAN THIS UP IMMEDIATELY! As I can feel my eyes crystallizing shut from the syrup in my eyelashes.
They come running in, I'm throwing dish towels out of the drawer at them, hobbling around like a wacko as I try to run them under water and I CANNOT BEND DOWN to help. So I keep rinsing their towels out and handing them back, trying to keep my breathing level as the open fridge and freezer drawers are causing my OCD tendencies to flare up. The sweet children that I have somehow been blessed with are frantically trying to wipe up the slop, keep Happy out of the sticky floor, and not contribute to my meltdown.
When I could tell we were almost on top of it, I had to excuse myself to go shower. I was turning into rock candy. Peg-legged rock candy.
And that was pretty much it. It's never boring here at the farm.
I made it to mom's the next day to help with the move, or at least try in my slightly hobbled state. The knee is healing quickly, and I was able to wear the brace for only half the day, and we got quite a bit done!
Then two days ago we were packing up some stuff and I got double-punched in the face.
Two wood slats were leaning up against the counter (picture long, heavy skis). A bunch of family members (moving helpers) and I were standing around planning our next move when they slid down, and in a blink of an eye, hit me on the face, one on either cheek. You could not have recreated the moment if you tried. Freak accident. But AAAUUUUUUGH! Why????? Honestly felt like I got punched on both sides of my face. Hard.
So now I have a bum knee and a bruised face. Awesome. I might wait before I finish my "fake" move.
Arrrrrr, matey. Where's my rum?
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