A few weeks ago, everything got turned around on me. Literally. On Saturday, October 12th, a day that will live in ymafni, almost every piece of clothing I ventured to dawn came out backwards.
Let’s break this down so it kinda seems scientifical. Backwards day was October 12, 2013. My surgery was the third day of September, in that foul year of our Lord, 2009.
According to this website, 1501 days elapsed between those dates. Significance? 15+0+1=16. The 16th letter of our alphabet is ‘p’. ‘P’ rhymes with, and is the first letter of ‘pee’ – which is what I must do now…
I’m back, moving on – ‘p’ is also the first letter of the word ‘polar’. In this case, polar has a dual meaning. On the one hand, it’s getting cold outside. We often use said word to denote extreme cold. On the other hand, polar is often placed in front of opposite to suggest something is out of order.
This brings us back to my clothes inversion excursion (exversion?). Anyway, the details are thus –
1# ecnatsnI – As per my usual Friday routine, I put gym shorts on under my pants. At some point that I don’t recall, I decided to put the shorts on both backwards AND inside out.
2# ecnatsnI – I changed clothes after working out. Did I put the shirt on backwards? Yeppers. Did I fix the shirt to walk my dog? No.
3# ecnatsnI – I took the shirt mentioned in 2# ecnatsnI off after walking said dog and, being so unadorned, I deemed it uncouth to greet the visitor so gently rapping on my chamber door. Away to my dresser I flew like a turtle and grabbed a shirt. I carefully inspected the inside of the collar for the tag, swearing that, henceforth, I shall put my clothes on correctly.
Despite my oath, the damn shirt ended up going on backwards – I blame Fruit of the Loom (this blog brought to you by Hanes “You can’t put our shirts on backwards, we won’t explain how this is possible, you just can’t.”).
Continuing with our / numerilogical/historical/chronological(I will call this new “science” numoronology – notice the five letters after ‘nu’), the square root of 16 (being the sum of 15+0+1) is four. I took the square root because only “squares” where their clothes backwards.
Four is significant because that is the number of botox injections I got in my foot for the last treatment.
I’ve tried with little success to describe the pain that comes from injections in the foot – I’ll give it another shot. To experience this very unpleasant…uhh…experience follow this four step process –
1. Get a long, sharp object (i.e. a needle)
2. Take off your shoe
3. Take off your sock
4. Take the needle from step one and impale the bottom of your exposed for with it four f*cking times!
Please forgive my lack of creativity with that description. You see, I can think of no feeling, painful or otherwise, that compares to a needle stick (nay, four needle sticks) in the bottom of the foot.
However, the pain is worth it after the botox starts to work its magic on my toe flexors.
Listen, after my hemorrhage/surgery, some wires done got crossed and now my toes think my brain wants them to curl all the time.
My brain my or may not be sending a signal to curl so vigorously, but my toes are hearing “CURL, DAMMIT! CURL UNTIL YOUR TOES POINT BACKWARDS!”
Ok, let’s recap. I started by mentioning yad sdrawkcab (backwards day) and finished with curling toes. numoronology is a truly dizzying, convoluted science.
Oh yeah, in observance of NaNoWriMo, I don’t plan to blog for the month of November – toodles!