This morning as I awoke from my drug-induced coma in a drug-induced haze, the first thing I noticed was that my wrist hurt. This was unusual since I don't remember it being injured yesterday WHEN I WAS RAN DOWN IN THE FUCKING CROSSWALK. Luckily, I'm right-handed and it's my left wrist that aches, so it won't interfere with any important business that needs to be done today.

And by "important business" I do not mean "masturbation" (pervert!)... I mean "shifting gears while driving solo".*

Since I was well enough to drive, I rolled out of bed.

Then promptly fell on the floor because I forgot my ankle was messed up.

As fun as it was to roll around on the carpet moaning "WAAAAAH! IT HURTS SO BAD!!" I had a plane to catch, so I reluctantly crawled to the shower and flopped around in the tub like a beached salmon for a few minutes while water sprayed down on me. Since that's not nearly as much fun as it sounds, I gave up on getting clean and decided to eat breakfast instead. Usually my breakfast would consist of four shots of Jägermeister after BEING HIT BY A FUCKING CAR the previous day... but I was driving. So I had a banana instead.

Drunk on a banana-fueled high, I threw a suitcase in the trunk of my car and then drove the 2-1/2 hours to Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.

Which was boat-loads of fun, I'm sure, but I honestly don't remember any of it (what in the hell was in that banana?). All I know is that it was raining, so it probably wasn't as pretty a trip as I had earlier this week...

From there it was a hellaciously rough two hour flight to Salt Lake City. Seriously, I haven't had a flight this nasty in a long time. It was so bad that I very nearly chucked my banana.** Once at SLC, I had a generous 35 minute layover. Or would have had 35 minutes but, since we were late getting out of Seattle, it was more like 20 minutes. And, of course, my connecting flight was clear across the frickin' airport. So I had to run to my gate with my twisted ankle screaming all the way (I've had worse). But, lucky me, I made it with time to spare. Which is good, because the flights are packed and I probably couldn't get another one until tomorrow. This would be bad, because I was meeting friends who were driving five hours down from Pueblo (that's in Colorado, y'all).

And so here I am in Albuquerque again, after a year-and-a-half absence.

My friends made sure that I (finally) got my four shots of Jägermeister, bless them.

   
   
*Also not a reference to masturbation.

**Still not a reference to masturbation.