my new nickname and why taylor is a bad kitty

Sometimes a weekend feels like five days.

Opening night was a big success.  We sold out, and had to turn people away at the door.  They brought in extra chairs.  People were sitting on the floor.  We had a good time.  Eric enjoyed it so much he said he’s coming to see it again (the play looks different depending on where you’re sitting).

Saturday night I sprained my ankle during the show.  I sort of half-fell off the stage in the dark.  It hurt, but at the time I thought I had just gotten a bad bruise and sort of twisted it a bit.  I finished the show, and was in more pain.  I went to do the Monks show.  I hobble-hopped around the show and stayed out of all things athletic.

Driving home Saturday night I was slowing down for a stop light on the feeder road.  A car came off the highway and immediately started to change lanes– right towards the door of my car.  I quickly sped up and swerved into the far right lane and back into the middle one (I’m so lucky there weren’t any cars coming on the other side– it’s a pretty busy intersection).  The other car never even waved or nodded or anything.  The bitch driver just looked right past me and continued to make her right hand turn.  I would have taken her license plate, but I was so shook up that I was just sitting in the car shaking.  Plus I had aggravated my ankle by slamming on the gas and brakes.  I got home and Eric put ice on my ankle and gave me a glass of wine.  We played a little poker with friends and then I went to sleep.

Yesterday I was pretty sure that my ankle would be okay for just the show.  The bottom of my foot had swollen– the arch of my foot.  I had never seen anything like that before.  There was a bruise on my ankle, which I had expected.  I had hit my ankle so hard on the stage that it had wiped off my tattoo that was drawn in Sharpie.  I loofah that thing in the shower and have problems getting it off.  I had taken off enough skin mixed with sweat that the fall had wiped the tattoo right off.  We went to the drugstore and bought Aleve and an ace bandage and wrapped my foot up.

I put on my makeup and went to my rehearsal, which was easy enough that it didn’t involve any running or jumping, and they let me keep my ankle pretty easy for the hour that I was there.  Then I was off to do the show again.

I thought that the show would have been easy, but I was wrong.  The show was more running and jumping than I really thought about, and by the time the show was over I was exhausted and cranky and in pain.  I wanted to go home, take a shower, take off the makeup and just relax with my foot in the air.

I got home to watch the end of the Steelers game.  Since it was a complete shut-out, Eric was in a rather good mood.

[scripty]
ERIC
What can I do to make you feel better, sweetie?

PAMIE
I want food, a bath, a facial mask, a nice cup of tea and a good movie.

ERIC
There’s no milk for your tea.

PAMIE
Did you pick up dinner?

ERIC
You can have some of my leftovers.

PAMIE
Ick.

ERIC
There’s the other half of your sandwich from lunch here.

PAMIE
Oh.

ERIC
I’ll go out and get you Chinese, okay?

PAMIE
You don’t have to.

ERIC
No, I’ll pick up some milk for you too, how about that?

PAMIE
Well…

ERIC
You go take a bath, and when you get out there’ll be your food and some tea, okay?  Here.  Take another Aleve for your ankle.  Here’s some ice.

PAMIE
Wow.

ERIC
I’ll be back soon.

PAMIE
God bless the Pittsburgh Steelers.
[/scripty]

I quickly saw there was nothing on television that I wanted to watch, but I didn’t want to still be in the bath when Eric got back with my food, so I took a shower and put a heavy conditioner in my hair (this show requires me to put so much gunk in my hair that my scalp has been hurting).  I did a facial mask and put on a nightgown.  I was ready for my relaxing dinner.

Eric came back with my dinner and milk and set it out for me.   “The milk’s in the fridge.  I’m gonna go wash my face.”

I had a bite of my chinese food.  Taylor poked his nose into my food.  “No, Taylor,  this is mine.”  I put him on the floor and fastened the take out box closed while I went to get a glass of milk.  It tasted funny.   It was 2%, and we usually get skim, so I thought maybe I just wasn’t used to it, or the Chinese food taste in my mouth made it taste strange.  I walked over to Eric.

[scripty]
ERIC
What’s up?

PAMIE
Taste this milk and tell me if it’s bad.

ERIC
This sounds like fun.

PAMIE
Just try a little.

ERIC
When’s the expiration?

PAMIE
The fifteenth.

ERIC
It should be fine.

(he takes a sip)

Yeah, it’s probably because it’s two percent and we aren’t used to– no.  It’s bad.  It’s bad.  Don’t drink it.
[/scripty]

So much for my cup of tea.  I went back into the kitchen to get a glass of water.  The water filter was empty.  “Okay,” I thought.  “So, it’s tap water.  You can deal with a little tap water every once in a while.  It’s time to stop hobbling around and eat your food.”

And that’s the straw that broke this gimpy camel’s back.  I walked back into the living room to find the entire container of Chinese food knocked over onto the carpet, with my fat cat in the middle of it, munching away.  The whole thing was spilled.  Piles of chicken, shrimp, pork and rice covered the area in front of the couch.  It was all ruined.

I started crying.  I cried because I’m a big baby who can’t take anything.  I couldn’t get my glass of milk, my food was ruined, my ankle hurt and there was so little on television that I had resigned myself to watching The Matchmaker with Janeane Garafalo.

I picked up handfuls of rice and threw them in the trash.  I got out the vacuum cleaner, but it seemed to be broken.  Instead of picking up the rice, it flung it around the carpet in an even larger surface area.  I got on my hands and knees and individually started picking up greasy bits of rice and cat fur.

Eric came in and told me to go sit down.  He got a broom and got most of the food up.  He reheated my sandwich from earlier.  He stroked my hair until I had calmed down.

I love my boyfriend.

He didn’t even make fun of me.  He just saw how pathetic I was being and kept cool and made everything better.  We went to bed early, and we gave Taylor bad glares when he tried to jump up on the bed with us.

So, here I am today, a bit gimpy and a bit wimpy.  And this morning when I woke up Taylor was so apologetic he even let me pet his tummy.  That never happens.

So I filled his bowl with food and cleaned his kitty litter out.  I’m such a sucker.

Tonight, for the first time in several weeks, I have no rehearsal, and no show.  I’m doing laundry, I’m cleaning my house, I’m rehearsing for MOMfest– oh.  I just put a rehearsal in there, didn’t I?  Well, I don’t mind the one-person show rehearsal so much.  I already know that show by heart.

I’ve never had a sprain before.  Or a strain, or whatever this is.  I’ve got this weird limp that you can’t really tell there’s something wrong with my foot, but rather I just think I’m hot shit today.  Nice.