Voda-Fail… the end is near…
Vodafone called me today to try to get me to sign up to stay with them longer and to let me know their new “deals”.
Vodafone call centre person: “Looking at your usage, you don’t seem to use your phone much”
My reply: “Yeah, my phone doesn’t really work where I live and work so it’s pretty useless, actually I’ve been meaning to call to see how much it would cost me to get out of my current contract and change carriers. Really happy that you called and saved me calling you and being put on hold for ages.”
Ka-boom.
When you live alone there is no one to bring you food (ps. being on crutches sucks)
Last Friday I slipped down the stairs at Central station and sprained my ankle. Of course I didn’t know that at the time, in fact it didn’t even really hurt. [Yes I’d had some post work drinkies, stop judging me!]. On Saturday I woke up, and with the alcohol worn off, I realised I had done some serious damage to my ankle and I was in pain.
Off I went to the doctors.
Note to self: Next time I hurt myself come up with a better story. Maybe some kind of extreme sport, or something involving a shark.
Doctor: “How did you hurt your ankle?”
Me: “I fell down some stairs at the train station.”
Doctor: “When?”
Me: “Friday night”
Doctor: “Had you been drinking?”
Me: “I’d had a few. But it’s not the first time I’ve hurt my ankle so maybe I just aggravated an old injury?!”
Doctor: “How did you hurt it the first time?”
Me: “In a mosh pit at a music festival.”
Doctor: “I see.”
[Stop judging me!]
The doctor ordered me to go get crutches, to stay off my foot, ice, rest, elevation. And to go get an x-ray first thing Monday morning, just to be sure I hadn’t managed to chip a bone during my dramatic fall.
The x-ray on Monday revealed that I wasn’t actually broken, just badly damaged.
Back at the doctors, I got told that my ankle was still severely swollen (yes I can see that) and that I should continue to rest and elevate. And that I should also book an appointment to see a physio.
The doctor gave me a certificate for the whole week. I think she felt sorry for me because I have to travel 1.5 hours to Chatswood. WINNER!
The physio told me I had damaged two of the ligaments in my foot (apparently there are 3). And I had category 2 damage (on a scale of 1 to 3). After a lovely massage to loosen up my muscles and a few ankle strengthening exercises I felt heaps better. On a side note, do all physios have to be charasmatic and charming? Is it part of the job description?
By Tuesday I was just getting into the swing of being on sick leave. I had programmed all the shows I wanted to watch into the Foxtel tv planner. I had built a nice little stash of food within easy reach. I was living “the life”. Then work called and burst my little bubble of happiness. Sick leave really isn’t what it use to be. Conference calls and being sent work via email. It’s worse than being at work.
Today I’m hobbling around the house without crutches. My ankle is starting to feel alot better and I have very little pain. Thank goodness. I might even go to work tomorrow.
This week has been a kick in the face reminder that I live alone. It’s not until you are sick that you truly realise how much living alone can suck. When you live alone and you are sick there is no one to complain to and no one to go get you food from the kitchen so that you don’t have to leave the comfort of the couch. There is no one to run errands for you and to drive you to the doctors. All I wanted was a little sympathy and someone to bring me some soup so I could sit and eat it while watching tv. For the record don’t even bother trying to carry soup anywhere while on crutches. It’s a receipe for disaster.
Turning 30 (not quite)
In the last few weeks I’ve attended quite a few 30th birthday parties. Not really surprising considering I will be 30 in less than 5 months. What did surprise me was how much of a big deal some people make for their 30ths. Hiring out pubs in the city, getting dressed up in formal attire, sit down dinners with name tags. Formal invitations and thank you cards. It’s like 21st birthday parties all over again… but with a strangely more grown up feel and now instead of the parents paying for it the birthday boy/girl has to.
It came as quite a shock to me that I would have to think hard about what I was going to wear to a 30th, maybe even buy a new outfit. And then there are presents. What on earth do you get someone turning 30? Well I can tell you what some people get – pressure cookers… Huh? When did we all get so grown up that we give each other home wares? Did I miss the memo?
I guess I didn’t think that people would want to celebrate turning 30 with such enthusiasm. I certainly don’t. Turning 30 scares the crap out of me. When I was in my teens I use to look to 30 as a milestone birthday. I thought that by the time I turned 30 I would have my shit sorted and my life in order. Instead I’m single with no love interests on the horizon, I feel like I’m drifting through my career with no real direction, I live at home, and have constant thoughts of quitting my job and going travelling for 6 months or maybe even a year. I don’t think I am quite grown up enough yet to turn 30. Luckily I still have 5 months to grow up a bit.
