Chapter One: In which she meets the Mayor, breaks her back, is yelled at by Tom, and learns a new Joan Jett song.

This week has been a horrible week. Sure, I had food on the table, money in the bank, a job to go to, and a whole host of people who love me...but other than that, it was a horrible week.

Now I just sound pathetic.

My week started out on Saturday with a massage to celebrate the lovely Miss Molly Robbin's birthday (30 is the new 27) which went fabulous. Sunday Morning I had the worst back ache I'd ever experienced. I think the girl pinched my damn nerve. I have now spent the week (and $125) going to chiropractors and hobbling around the office like a polio victim. Sigh. They're calling me hobbles there. HOBBLES.

On Thursday I met the Mayor. He was at my train station. I come hobbling in with my hands totally full trying to simultaneously balance 2 dozen bagels and not run in to anyone. The Mayor asks me if I'm okay. I look at him blankly. Obviously, I am not. A woman wearing too much lipstick and high heels asks me if I'd like my picture taken with said Mayor. I look blankly at her. They look blankly at each other. I keep walking.

Tom, you confuse me. One minute I love you, one minute I hate you. You yelled at me today. I deserved it, but not so much for my own doing. I was willing to take the brunt of it.

This morning, in the safety of my bathroom and relaxing my muscles (with pills) I danced to Joan Jett and sang into a hairbrush. It was remarkable considering only a few short hours later I was back to hobbling. But there was a moment, me, the hairbrush, and Joan shared that simply will not be taken back.

Now I'm going to drink this here bottle of wine and fall asleep on the couch.