I'm just a girl...

Woke up this morning in pain and had to contemplate what I did last night. Mostly bending down to pick stuff up off the floor, walking around the huge room to find a place for it, stuffing it somewhere...repeat...repeat...repeat. Enough bending and stooping all night that I didn't even need to work out. Although I added sit ups, with 23 pounds of weights on my chest, before bed.

It's pathetic when a simple task like a couple hours of cleaning can hurt you. I guess I'm stubborn and I refuse to believe I actually have an injury. I mean the accident was a year ago and my car wasn't even moving when she hit me! I suppose it's a blessing that Utopia was canceled. Now I only work as a dancer one night per month instead of two. So there's less chance of aggravating the injury.

Then of course it dawns on me that I will be taking my semi-injured self to LA to climb poles and stuff. Maybe that wasn't such a brilliant plan. Now that I think about it, this plan was no so well thought out at all. I'm doing some dangerous winter driving. And the person I'll be staying with for a month actually tried to kill me once. I never pressed charges, so he got away with it. And when I ran into him 13 years later I forgave him more from pity than from the fact that I share half his DNA. Jeez, this is a another story altogether. Trust me when I say I'm not in any danger from this man. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm not real comfortable spending time with some one who tried to strangle me to death. I'm hoping after a week or so I'll find another friend willing to put me up for free for a month in their home.

I'll write another post about him this weekend if I can find time. I might as well tell the whole sordid story and explain why I trust him now.