Parking in the neighborhood was worse tonight than last night and I ended up have to park around back, a block away. Fine. It'll all be worth it in the end. I can make it another day. Even if it is going to be butt-ass cold in the morning and I won't be able to use my remote starter.
Side note: Once upon a time I wanted a remote starter, but then changed my mind. I was tough. I didn't need something so extravagant. But since I got one when I got my car, I figured I'd use it. I should get something positive out of having to decimate my savings because a douchecanoe was being a dickbag and totaled my car, right? So I use the fucking thing.
I decided to walk to my place through the alley, because it's cold out and that route is shorter. Dumb. The glare ice all along the alley is only barely covered by enough greasy snow to make it damn near impossible to get anywhere.
But I managed to make it to the back deck. Then I was heading down the steps to get to the front. I noted a huge patch of ice on the top step area, stepped gingerly, and my foot promptly shot out from underneath me on the next step and I landed on my ass. It fucking hurt.
Once I got in the house and took my coat off, I realized I also apparently landed on my forearm, as it there is a lot of purple, and a very clear line where my arm hit the corner of the step. That just happens to be the same arm where I dislocated my shoulder several years ago (by slipping and falling down icy steps, coincidentally enough). Now my shoulder feels ... loose. I'm sure it's just paranoia. It's happened a number of times over the years since the original dislocation.
I've already been having a tough week and was already in a shitty mood, so maybe that's why I burst into tears and can't stop crying (though, I think I'm close to stopping), but I just fucking want to give up right now. I don't know how I can deal with three more days of annoying, demanding clients and Chicken Little; not to mention butt-ass cold, not enough sleep and probably more things, but I can't remember them. If this fucks up my workout schedule, I'll be really pissed.
In the meantime, I'm drinking and watching Broken Social Scene play the Bowery Ballroom. That which doesn't kill me will only make me stronger, right?