Avery Spielberg’d.
What a snuggle bunny. Which reminds me – we’re soon going to cross that line where she becomes irrevocably nicknamed Bunny for life, like some Republican grandma from the Deep South. How do we feel about that? Is it time for an agressive intervention in favour of Pepper? Or do we chance that Pepper will evolve on its own sometime around age five? The jury is still out on this one.
Segue! I did get X-rayed today. I do have a fractured rib. Marjorie had the grace to not say “I told you so.” She’s a nice lady. I got copies of the x-rays hoping there would be something to show, like Jim’s awesome brain scan, but I’ll have to get a doc to point out my injury, because I can’t see anything out of whack. I’ll apparently be feeling it for six to eight weeks. Have to avoid heavy lifting. Take it easy. No going back to the gym just yet. Dammit. Double dammit. Double dammit hold the extra cheese and I’ll just have a salad. What a pain in the… chest region.
Still – hey – nothing broken. Super fantastic awesome. Thank you, mother, for letting me drink 5 liters of milk a week growing up. That calcium is paying off big time.
On Tuesday I’ll call the fella that hit me. Don’t want to bum his long weekend. Then… well, my doc said I should have filed a personal injury claim. Yes, the legal kind. The radiology folk laughed at the silly Canadian for not filing. This sucks. I do not want to contribute to the insurance lawyers vs insurance lawyers racket. If I don’t file, what happens? Does my insurance company deny my coverage? What if there’s secondary issues down the road? This sucks donkey balls. So I’m still thinking about it. Do not like. At all. So far the best I’ve been able to come up with is talking about it with the guy that hit me. Maybe he’ll say he’s insured out the yin yang and please do go right ahead and hey I brought you a muffin. Or he’ll say I have the wrong number and that will be that.
Stupid broken system.
Meanwhile, seeing as we were all in town, Marjorie took Avery to Macy’s and found some adorable outfits. It’s ok that part of parenting is playing dressup with dolls that actually live and breathe, right? Fun! And the Gap is having a big sale this weekend (Veteran’s Day, remember? Obviously).
Well team, I’m bushed. Need sleep. Stuff to think about. May your weekend be scintillating in the kind of way that makes you almost blush to talk about, because you feel kinda spoiled, even though you know damn well you deserve it.
Sorry to hear about the rib, that’s a serious bummer. When you call the guy that hit you, make sure you get his name, and all his personal info before asking if he’s insured. Just in case he decides to be a dick. Good luck, and go file. The insurance companies can handle it.
Thanks for the thought. I’m still undecided. I’m fine if the insurance companies can, in fact, handle it. But it was an accident, and I don’t want him to be out of pocket any more than I do myself. I’ll probably have to talk to a personal injury lawyer to find out more.