This is another pasture day, I fear, although there have been some nice bright spots.
Woke up this morning with a powerfully painful leg cramp and my cold back with a vengeance. [Cue AC/DC’s “Back in Black” in the background.] I’d gotten the PowerPoint presentation done at about 12:30 this morning, and I couldn’t sleep until almost 2:00. At 6:15, I had the Groin Cramp [yeah, you can get ’em–they hurt like a bitch] from Hell–started at my hips and hurt all the way down to my knee. Compounding this pain was the fact that I had to scramble out of a loft bed to try to walk it off. That requires more gymnastics than a 300-pound man should try at that hour of the morning.
At 7:15 or so, I finally got moving … and saw I had an email from Noah, what we’ve taken to calling The Email–a huge thing that we pass back and forth as he and I discuss a variety of things. This has been one of the two bright spots of the day, and the only one that remains undimmed. Friends are like that–they lift you even on your worst days, in ways they might never realize. 🙂
I copied the presentation off to my floppy, jumped in the truck, and started the 18-minute drive to church. I got to church, got the computer out, and popped in the floppy to copy the presentation to the hard drive. No go; won’t recognize the floppy. My mind races: “What would the IJSM Dean do?” He’d tell the young sound intern, “Brandon, I’m going to go drive home and email the presentation to the Bread email address. It’ll take me about 40 minutes.” He nods, I run off. [Try running the morning after the Groin Cramp from Hell. I dare you.]
I drove back home, speed limit be damned. I got home, disconnected my keys [I have two truck keys for situations like this], left my truck running, and ran [well, speed limped] inside. Thank God in Heaven above that I left my old computer going, else I’d have to wait the four minutes for it to reboot. Read another email from Noah [I’d sent him a short reply to The Email for a couple of reasons] as the file sent. I prayed it would get there and I’d be able to get it, and once sent, I speed-limped back to the truck.
I drove back to church, pulling into the parking lot 35 minutes after I left. [Dad, don’t do the math.] I get there, and we scramble to find a floppy and get it to the computer with my email waiting. We do so, and it takes forever to get the file copied. I get it copied, and run to the already-setup machine [thankfully, Kim, our worship coordinator, had set it up for me in my absence]. I load the file … and two of my very nicely-selected photos are corrupted. I would have sworn at the machine, but I was in church. I re-do the presentation quickly in an effort to salvage things; I get to something that looks okay but not to my standards.
I dump the presentation to the hard drive to run it from there. Guess what? It can’t read the floppy. I can’t save to the floppy, either. The only way this presentation will run is from where it’s stored in the computer’s RAM. I look–I fouled up and didn’t plug the computer into the BackUPS. I fold my hands and pray, “Lord, don’t let this computer die on me now.”
It runs okay; I only goof up twice on moving stuff. Once, my trigger finger was a bit itchy; the other time, I was distracted by a lovely female in the third row on the [to me] right side of the congregation. About halfway through the service, I realized who she was: the college freshman daughter of Larry, our senior pastor. I’d heard she was good-looking, but … damn. Alas, she goes to UA, and not UAH … but hey, she could transfer. :p
At the end of the service, Ron, our associate pastor, announces that there will be a college fellowship group cranking up tonight at his house with dinner at 6:00. I smile inwardly, thinking, “You know, maybe she will be there.” I said she, because I can’t remember her name, despite being told it once. [Blast my memory.] I fix a benign smile on my face, until Larry’s wife, Margaret, looks right at me, nods, and winks. I smile back, a bit larger now, a bit more brazenly. Did Margaret catch me eyeing her daughter during the service? I never could tell; I guess I was distracted. 🙂
Well, I resolve to stop by CVS on my way home, get some NyQuil, and get to feeling better [much less stop sounding like a cracking-voice high school freshman]. I call Kat as I get home, telling her I’m sick as hell and won’t be able to help. She can tell from my mercurially raspy voice that I’m not in good shape.
Fast forward to now, less than two hours before this dinner, when I’ve just chugged another slug of NyQuil, chanted the line from Denis Leary, and started to peck at my keyboard. One: email Dad and tell him I’m sick and can’t make myself understandable over the phone; two: start this entry and one other for IJSM; three: realize that I’m shivering like a sick bastard and need to get back into bed. So, I’m eyeing the “Add This Entry” button, trying to see if there’s anything I’ve left out. Guess not. *click*