First things first, I woke up from the most uncomfortable sleep ever. Picture this: I made the genius decision of sleeping on my back, thinking it would be a good idea. Oh, how wrong I was! My vertebrae were cracking like a bag of chips, but the real problem was my stumpy leg. It had its own agenda and protested against this sleeping position. Apparently, it had a bone to pick with me, literally!
Despite my stiff back and grumpy leg, I summoned all my bravery to step outside. And guess what? The universe rewarded me with a breathtaking day of sunshine and beauty. It was like a scene from a postcard, and there I was, a walking disaster amidst all the splendor.
Now, the ultimate nemesis of my existence: stairs. Hazardous. I kept wondering if would it be faster to throw myself down rather than try dragging my leg after me! Walking up? I was sure it took 100 years to get to the top step!
To add to the madness, my dad had the audacity to ask me if I could climb into his truck. I mean, seriously? On a good day, I can barely pull off that stunt, and now, with my leg’s newfound grumpiness, it was an absolute no-go. I shot him a look of disbelief, silently saying, “Do you really think I’m capable of such gymnastics?”
my mom asked if I could change the cat litter, I couldn’t help but let out a jaw-dropping “No!” I mean, come on, how was I supposed to pull off that feat? It was like asking a penguin to fly. And right on cue, my dad came to the rescue, ready to battle the cat litter and save the day.
Summoning every ounce of energy left in my clumsy body, I managed to drag myself from the car to the rental building. Walking was an Olympic sport for me at this point, with my leg being the unpredictable wildcard. But hey, at least the pain was somewhat bearable. As I entered the building, the management was flabbergasted to see me in person. It had been months since my last in-person visit, and their surprised exclamations of “Rebecca!” echoed throughout the place. Oh, the joys of being a regular rent-paying celebrity!
In desperate need of some comfort food and company, I decided to head to the restaurant where I worked. I craved the presence of my coworkers, hoping their contagious energy would lift my spirits. But, as luck would have it, just as I emerged from my car, a truck decided to back up right next to me, almost turning me into a pancake. I couldn’t contain my frustration and unleashed a verbal storm on the reckless driver. I mean, seriously, was he trying to play a game of bumper cars? My dad, clueless as ever, innocently asked, “Becky, why are you yelling?” Sigh, some people just don’t get the drama of life.
Finally, I managed to escape the truck fiasco and made my way into the restaurant, only to find my colleagues in a state of perpetual grumpiness. They bombarded me with questions about why I wasn’t working. I frowned and replied, “Because I have been sick, duh!” It’s like they expected me to pull a rabbit out of a hat and start tap dancing or something.
But amidst the chaos, there was a silver lining. May, who had been stuck at the McCafé, emerged looking tired and stoic. I went up to her, concerned, and asked how she was holding up. Turns out, she had been on McCafe. She crushed my dreams of her being on lane 2 🤣
As the day winded down, I sought solace in the arms of my furry companions. Ah, my babies, they always knew how to make me smile. However, Willow, being the mischievous ball of fur she is, decided to pounce on my bad leg, sending waves of pain through my body. I let out a scream that could rival a horror movie, and poor Willow was terrified. But in a sweet turn of events, she came back to me, curled up on my lap, and started grooming me. It was her way of saying sorry, and honestly, who could resist the adorable guilt trip of a remorseful kitty?🐾
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