The Gimp Life: Part Two

I'm throwing myself a pity party of epic proportions, and you're on the guest list! The longer I fester couch-bound and injured, the more I sulk and the less I feel motivated to return to normal activities. Last night was my first time teaching since I injured my shoulder. Prior to arriving at the studio I was amped up and jazzed to teach after such a lengthy hiatus away from my beloved profession and students. Those positive emotions quickly faded once my first student of the evening arrived. The majority of my time donning a sling I've spent completely alone, so I hadn't had time to prepare properly for the inquiries of others upon seeing my fabric arm cradle. Because no one had asked me about my injury, I had also not had time to formulate an eloquent and quick response. Thus, when my first student came to check in and saw me, I had no idea what to say when he asked me what I did to my arm. If people had been asking me throughout the course of my time in a sling, I may have had ample time to come up with a better story. Instead, I mumbled something about falling multiple times on the same area and rambling way longer than the student cared to listen. The next student asked "what did you do?" which I quickly realized meant "how did you do whatever you did to end up in a sling?" because my response of "I hurt my shoulder" was met with a blank stare, because obviously she meant to ask HOW I injured myself.

So, next time you ask someone what he or she did to him or herself, instead ask how he or she did whatever he or she did to injure him or herself, if that is in fact what you want to know. Maybe the askers of these questions want to know both what I did to myself and how I did it. Either way, I never came up with a quippy response. My new go-to response is that I hurt my shoulder fighting ninja (which is the plural of ninja, fun fact) or saving a puppy from the clutches of a rabid kangaroo.

Now that I am prepared to answer the question, of course, I am back to hosting my pity party on the couch. I am not entirely alone, however; my roommate's dog Tigger is and has been keeping me company, whether or not I want him to. Honestly, the amount of attention he is giving me is starting to be a bit much, especially considering I barely know him.

I can only liken him to an over-zealous member of an entourage. By definition, an entourage is a group of people attending to or surrounding an important person. The amount Tigger is attending to me makes him feel like an entire entourage. He literally follows me EVERYWHERE, and if I go into a room and shut the door he sits immediately outside and waits for me.

When I walk in the front door he excitedly greets me. While I sit and vegetate on the couch he sits and vegetates right along with me unless someone comes to hang out with me and then he actively protects me on the couch from the intruder. If I get up to go to the kitchen, Tigger gets up to go to the kitchen. If I get up to go to the bathroom, Tigger is in suit. I'm thankful that he can't talk because I imagine it would drive me insane in no time. "Hey Marisa, how are you? Marisa! Marisa! Can we hang out? Wait, Marisa, where are you going? Come back! Marisa! If you need something I am LITERALLY right outside the door!" It's like, chill, Turtle, I need a two-second break from your constant attention! Thankfully, Tigger is a dog and can't talk. Therefore, he also can't ask me what I did to myself or how I did it.