Sunday, February 1, 2009

Where's Tonya Harding?

My knees were mysteriously starting to hurt somewhere around the beginning of January. The pain crept up so stealthily that I can't pinpoint when it began. Then, a week ago Saturday I insisted on trying to run on a treadmill at school even though my knees were mysteriously sore. Instead of a full hour of running/walking and making it a distance of 6 miles (I hoped), I managed 30 minutes of running/walking/hopping, and then just walked until I made 4 miles.

Now not only are my knees even more sore, but now I can't use them, either! Brilliant! Ha ha! Narf! Not my brightest moment, I admit. I just wanted to run off the stress so badly!

However, it has turned out to be a blessing from the Lord in disguise. Instead of spending my time dancing and running (and attending a weekend-intensive cross-training class), I've been able to choreograph quite a bit (utilizing a zen-like concentration and endless listening to the same bars of music), and even tidy up the apartment slightly. And so, I believe I'm actually significantly calmer now than I believe I would have been otherwise.

Still, I believe that my menisci may be inflamed, and/or that I might have chrondomalacia of my patella. Can anyone refer a good doc?

April Showers . . . Shouldn't Happen Indoors

Thursday night, or more appropriately, Friday morning, Tyson and I sprang out of bed at 1:00am to the sound of water running in our bathroom. I thought that maybe our sink or bathtub faucets had blown, but no, it was even better. Water was running through the vent on our bathroom ceiling (and later we discovered from the corner behind the door), and our floor was flooded. Tyson went to the apartment directly above us (several times) and knocked loudly on their door. He could hear them talking and laughing, but they wouldn't answer. Finally the emergency maintenance guy arrived around 3:00am and was eventually able to talk to them (although they wouldn't respond to him at first, either). After showing him their dry bathroom, I guess the woman finally 'fessed up to somehow running a bath and using the whole bathroom as her tub. (Frankly, I can't fathom what you could do that could send a steady stream of water into our bathroom for hours.)

Last night, just before I left for Becky's birthday dinner, I heard water dripping quickly onto the bathroom ceiling, and so I watched it carefully for as long as I could. When I returned later that evening, the paint was pulling away from the ceiling from the moisture, but has since returned to normal.

Next time, we'll be choosing the top floor apartment, thank you kindly. :)