But as I’ve whined about before, I’m still grappling with a herniated disc in my neck. You’d think with all the time I spend lying on the couch with an ice pack to my neck, I’d have tons of time to prop my laptop on my elevated legs and write pithy concoctions about buckin’ Bronco and the kickin’ Cougs.
But my new life as a couch dweller is not a cushy life of leisure. It’s a pathetic life of tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable enough position to relieve my pain for a few moments so my brain can think of something besides, “Ouch, ohhh, ugh,” and “Make it stop,” or “Just shoot me!” and “How long, oh Lord?”
When you’re in pain it’s difficult to think about anything else. It completely takes over your brain, making it difficult to think or function productively.
I’m already prone to numb noggin tendencies anyway, so add pain on the brain and you can imagine the imbecilic life I’m leading these days.
One such awkward brain pain episode occurred a couple days ago. I was so sick and tired of lying on the couch, lying on the chiropractor’s table, and lying in the bathtub to soak that I just couldn’t stand it anymore. So I went against doctor’s orders just a teeny tiny bit by meeting a friend for a short bike ride.
I drove to our meeting place, and when I went to put my keys in my bike jersey pocket I realized I was wearing the stupid cheap-o jersey I bought online for what I thought was a killer deal, but really wasn’t because it has no pockets, which is super annoying.
Why even make a bike jersey without pockets, people?!
Anyway, I was whining about this dumb-deal jersey to my friend as we were getting our bikes ready and I stuck my keys as deep as I could into a small mesh pocket on the side of my bike shorts.
We went for our ride and had a great time.
For those 50 glorious minutes my brain was distracted from the pain by the activity, the views, the breeze, and the fun conversation with my friend. It was awesome! (Shhhh, don’t tell my doctor.)
When we got back to my van, I reached in my pocket to get the keys to put my bike away, but there were none.
Stupid, cheap-o, pocketless jersey!
I couldn’t believe I didn’t feel or hear my keys fall out of my shorts pocket while riding. My friend offered to bike back and look for them, but I didn’t want to burden her, and since I was already being naughty by biking, I didn’t think I should go any longer than I already had.
I did what I always do when I’ve done something stupid I can’t fix myself. I called in my hero, Captain Rescue Kari!
Before the world began, God knew one of his daughters would mean well in mortal life, but often be pretty daft and therefore need access to a guardian 24/7 to save her from herself. So He manipulated the universe to provide her with a husband who would have a job where he worked from home and could be called upon at a moment’s notice to help this tragic soul.
Luckily, I’d at least been smart enough to put my cell phone in my athletic bra instead of the unreliable mesh pocket with the keys so was I able to call my Captain.
Jason arrived, unlocked the doors, and put my bike in the van for me.
Isn’t he the sweetest?
As he opened my door for me he said, “By the way, I found your keys.” As I looked up at him in amazement, he reached down and patted a wad of metal against my thigh inside my bike shorts.
Apparently, I hadn’t put my keys in the mesh pocket. I’d put them down my pants.
I’m telling you, brain pain makes you crazy.
Now if only I could explain why these kinds of moronic things happen to me even when all the discs in my spine are in complete alignment.