Yeah. This happened.

This week, in the DC, I had a little setback.

I had some wrist pain on Saturday... that increased exponentially until Monday morning when I could no longer move my wrist- or fingers- because of the pain. And I actually shed tears.

I went to the doctor and after two hours of waiting, explained my situation to the doctor:
"So, I don't know what happened... my wrist just started hurting. I didn't injure it. The only thing I can think of is that I moved and pulled some heavy suitcases all week last week. Oh, and I broke that wrist when I was 6. And, did I forget to say that it hurts like, really bad?"

The doctor was of very little help. The x-ray said nothing. After my 4-hour visit to the urgent-care clinic that I found online and found a ride to, the doctor sent me home with a brace, a prescription, and no information.

(sidenote: I hate taking medication. I feel like medicine (not antibiotics) doesn't actually make you better, it just makes you feel like you are better until you actually get better. And I don't like it when I feel fake better. I don't like not knowing what it's supposed to actually feel like. I know that's weird.)

So I got home and didn't fill my prescription. I iced my poor wrist, took some ibuprofen, and took a 2-hour nap.

The next day it hurt worse. I didn't sleep that night, you know, because it hurt so bad. And it was dang hard to get ready in the morning. Try putting a ponytail in your hair with one hand. Imagine me, Audrey, using one hand to put my nylons on for my first day of student teaching on Tuesday. Imagine my 5 whole minutes of agony. And then imagine going to some inner-city schools in Washington, D.C. and meeting intimidating administrators who give your broken wrist a firm handshake. Imagine holding in the scream.

It was a rough couple of days. I even called my brother and cried. Sobbed while walking down the street in Foggy Bottom after my first day. I sat on the metro with red puffy eyes and avoided looking at my fellow passengers.

What the heck is wrong with my wrist? What. the. heck. And besides the heck, what the RANDOM, right?

I gave up the no-prescription-medicine-charade on Wednesday afternoon. My happiness has increased dramatically since then. I slept last night. The whole night. No midnight trips to the bathroom for more painkillers or trips to the kitchen for ice bags.

Improvements of today:
1. I buttoned my pants this afternoon with apparent ease.
2. I carried something.
3. I cracked an egg. With both hands.
4. I slowly texted with both of my thumbs. 
5. I'm typing. Right now. With two hands (one in the brace of course)

Tomorrow my goal is to:
1. Apply lotion to my left arm (with my right hand)

So I'm in a positive, stabilized position at this time. But I think it's fake. My wrist feels better because I'm taking a strong pain killer and anti-inflammatory to stop the swelling (see picture below). So I guess I'll keep you updated on that.

Comparison of Audrey's wrists and hands. TOP: normal hand. Bottom: NOT NORMAL. Notice the two missing knuckles on the bottom hand due to swelling. And the lump on the left side of the wrist that is only slightly visible.

My experience in DC round 2 has been... a little rough at times. I am anxious to see how things turn out.

BTdub, I am still terrified of student teaching.

And there were like 5 large hiccups in my placement. Hopefully (and thankfully) they are overcome. It's been a little bit stressful to say the least. And I have been very, very sad, and very, very mad way too many times. I think I'm generally a fairly emotionless person, unless that emotion is happy, excited, or sincerely content but sleepy. It's been a ride. A wild ride. :)

But I love love love my roommates. They are Jetette Super Great. Aimee is my room-roommate. We have some great pillow talk, which I love. And all the girls support my ice cream addiction. Last night, when I was having such a hard time, my girls went down to the convenience store in the basement of our apartment building and bought me a pint of Red Velvet special edition ice cream, and then we sat in a circle and talked it all out.

Welcome to Audrey's Life as a Private Person.

So... I went private. Why, you ask??? Because the Museum That Must Not Be Named is spying on me.

This is what happened. On Monday, May 18, 2009, I got an email from one Suzanne McLaughlin, Internship Coordinator for You-Know-What-Museum. She wanted to see me in her office before I went home for the day. So, I packed up my stuff a little bit early to drop in and talk to her. I figured that she just wanted to discuss my first week of work, you know, see how I was doing.

I went up the elevator, said hi to Eddy the Elevator Man, then proceeded to her office.

This is how it went:
"Hi, Suzanne! How are you?" I sat down.
"I'm fine. Audrey, I have something that needs to be brought to your attention."
"Okay..." I was very hesitant in my okay. I sat down.
"Here at the [Museum that Must Not Be Named], we like to see what people are saying about us. We have advanced searching technology to find every time the [Museum that Must Not Be Named] is mentioned online. This morning I was notified that your blog was found."
"Oh."
"Now, there was nothing super inappropriate on there, but you probably should not have pictures of your ID badge online, or your email address." Super inappropriate?? That actually is a direct quote, and translated it means, you are in trouble. You have inappropriate things on your blog. Take them off within the next two minutes."
And then my line, "Oh my gosh, I had no idea. Wow, that does seem like a dumb idea to put my ID badge on there. I didn't even think about security. I'm so sorry. I understand completely. I'll take it down right away. Thanks for letting me know. I really appreciate it." Blah Blah Blah.

I walked out of that office feeling many things:
1) Very much in trouble. She did not get mad at me, she was just concerned and needed to let me know. BUT, I don't get even slightly in trouble, EVER, for ANYTHING. I remember the 3 specific times in Elementary School when I got in trouble. It just has not ever happen besides those three random incidences (that were extraordinarily unjust by the way. I still say that I did nothing wrong). People don't get mad at Audrey Sweetheart, because I never do anything wrong. The end.
2) Watched. Monitored. Censored. Spied On. Violated. Seen. Attacked. My first amendment rights had been infringed upon. What the dementor happened to freedom of Speech?
3) Very nervous and worried. I had mentioned some co-workers in that first, unedited post. I didn't say mean things, but they were things that could have been taken as offensive. I was mortified by the fact that someone from the Archives Center may or may have already seen my blog. I was SCARED TO DEATH that my internship would be ruined over a stupid blog issue.

I marched right home, and my blog was edited within a half an hour of talking to Suzanne McLaughlin, Internship Coordinator. And then, before I went to bed that night, I made the difficult decision to go private. I did not want to be censored, and I did not want to deal with this issue in the future. I figured that this was better, anyway, because it creeps me out when random people from China read my blog and leave comments. I want none of that. So, I am private and secure, and You-Know-What-Museum is now relateable to You-Know-Who, Voldemort. Let me explain why:

1) I am scared to use the name on my blog because I don't want to be found again.
2) The Museum That Must Not Be Named is very powerful.
3) The Taboo. With a single mention, You-Know-What-Museum finds the source, just like old Voldy traces those who use his name. (Exhibit A: HP 7 when Fenrir Greyback finds Harry, Ron, and Hermione and takes them to Malfoy Manor. Tragic Consequences.)
4) Voldemort causes fright and pain.

And so, my friends. I have a private blog, and I am very unhappy about it. But I feel secure, and that's worth something.

The Dangers of Pop-Tarts

First Order of Business: My BURNT HAND. So, on Thursday I came home from class and innocently began preparing lunch. I was STARVING because it was already after 3:00pm, and I didn't get any lunch on campus because of stupid group projects that were pointless and retarded. So, while I was preparing my real meal, I threw a pop-tart into the toaster to hold me over. BAD IDEA, CHIEF! A couple minutes later the pop-tart popped, and I pulled it out. It was very very hot. And honestly, I don't know quite how it happened. I don't know if it was the frosting or the goo inside or what, but while I was transferring the pop-tart from the toaster to the counter, something SCALDED my hand. I kind of started freaking out and waving my hand around trying to get the goo or whatever off my hand. I flipped on the water, thinking that it would just go away in a minute. But no, this was no regular little kitchen burn. This was a 4 inch long, 6 blister affair. How it got so bad, I will never know. When my hand still felt like it was on fire after like five minutes under cold water, I decidedly filled a bag of ice, threw on my backpack and ran to the car. I knew that I needed something to treat my burn- and fast. Also, I was scheduled to work in like a half an hour, and I needed my problem under control. I drove to Macey's, ran in to the pharmacist, stuck my hand out to show the pharmacy tech, and in a very desperate tone, said, "I need something for a burn." I actually kind of started to cry a little bit. Let me tell you, that girl knew that I was in pain, and I was starting to freak out quite a bit. It was just hurt SO STINKING BAD!

After stocking up on medical supplies (total: $16.00 that I didn't have in my account), I dashed off to work with tears in my eyes and a bag of much-needed ice in my hand. To summarize the rest of the story, I worked a 5-hour shift with a bag of ice in my hand the whole time. it was HORRIBLE. My only consolation was that I worked with Audrey P, who I love dearly and HARDLY EVER get to work with (go Audrey Squared!). We made 6 trips to Arby's throughout the day to re-fill my bag of ice because me hand wouldn't stop hurting. Every time the ice melted and the water started to get warmer, my hand would un-thaw and feel as though someone lit 25 matches simultaneously by scratching them on my hand and them leaving them there to burn, smoulder, and cook. Not a pretty picture, idea, or feeling. It is now the 4th day after this tragedy occurred, and it is obviously still very sore. I've kept it wrapped a lot, though, so that helped. And, I finally popped the inch-long blister last night. I swear that thing was protuding like a quarter of an inch off my hand. Super gross.
(You can't see the blisters that are closer to my thumb. It was really really hard to take a picture).

Also, everyone that I tell about my burn says that I should sue the pop-tart people. Also, Clint, Audrey P's husband, said that he alreayd knew pop-tarts were dangerous because his house almost burned down once because of a pop-hart. But, I DO NOT have a case. This is the warning on the back of the box: (and I'm serious, it actually says this)

CAUTION: If the pastry is overheated, the frosting/filling can become extremely hot and could cause burns. Do not leave toasting appliance unattended during heating due to possible risk of fire.

hahahahahaha. Oh crap.
Anyway, the adventure of the weekend. :)

80's Skating: very fun but very painful.

Reasons Why:
1) Uh, it was 80's night! What is more fun than poofy hair, hot pink lipstick, minis, and leggings?
2) My girls are awesome, and now we are real friends with Amy and Lindsay downstairs. We are no longer just Sunday friends- we made the transition.
3) Classic roller skates are the bomb.com until you fall. That's where the painful part comes in.
4) I fell TWO times. First, I landed on my side and got a big bruise. Second, I fell straight backwards and smacked my tailbone on the floor. It hurt so bad I couldn't move for a minute, and I seriously almost cried. I never cry. We went skating on Saturday. It is now Wednesday. My tailbone is STILL sore. And I swear that I got whiplash from the experience. My neck was killing me afterward!
5) The skates scraped the skin off of my right ankle. That was particularly painful in the shower the next day.
6) Requesting "Billie Jean" and dedicating the song to Ashley and Devon in honor of their recent engagement...
7) Attempting to dance while skating. That may have been the reason for all the pain.
8) Well, that's about it. The night was fun until we put the skates on, and then it was too painful to be fun anymore.
9) But how about this one: when I realized that the 3" silver heels that I was wearing with my outfit were more comfortable than the skates I was wearing. It was honestly a relief to put them back on at the end of the night.
10) Singing in the car on the way to classic skating and back. I always love singing in the car.

PS- I have a shout-out for my Ash Baby. I love you, darling! And congratulations on the diamond! SCORE!!!! I'm so excited for you. :)