Life in the fast lane

Just when I thought things were looking up, I figured I was safe to go out of the house heading somewhere other than work this weekend. So I spent the better part of yesterday doing the rounds of various fabric outlets, spending far more than I should have on some beautiful materials which will someday be turned into something equally beautiful. As if lugging a couple of hundred dollars worth of stuff around wasn't enough to test my back out, I decided to really push my luck and play with my niece.

She's two, but she's about the size of the average four year old, a mini giant who will one day be a seriously tall one. Imagine a slightly less coherent but far more opinionated Dora the Explorer, and you're getting pretty close to the hyperactive bundle of energy that my brother helped bring into this world. Ever the optimist, I thought I'd be able to manage some of our usual games - the catch and spin, the whizzy dizzy, the throw over the shoulder, the threaten to throw in the bin. It was only the last one that made me certain it probably wasn't one of my better ideas. But there's no easy way out when your arms are full of squirming, shrieking little girl and you're standing on concrete. Not like the moment when you first began to doubt your own wisdom and simply made it more fun by dropping her on the conveniently located bed.

Not content with that, I headed out and about today, driving to various locations around town. The true lightening bolt moment of the day came as I was driving on the Ring Road, along one of the three lane stretches. Driving down the left lane, I noticed signs telling me to merge right. Checking the mirrors, I waited for a speeding car to pass me, then moved over at about the same time as the car in front of me pulled in front of the speeder. Funny, it was kind of like it happens in the movies - slow motion, obvious what the next step would be at every stage. Rather than braking, the speeder began to shift into the right lane. They didn't check their mirrors, or look out their window, even, and didn't see the car that was already in that lane until it was almost too late. With bare millimetres between the two cars, they both suddenly became aware of what was going on. The car already in the right lane swerved a little away, but the speeder, as they had done all along, completely over reacted. Braking hard and wrenching left, the driver lost control of their car. Smoke was screaming from the locked wheels as they skidded and spun across my lane and the left lane which had not yet ended. By the time they reached the emergency lane, they were facing the wrong way and started to cross back into the left lane before coming to a stop, at last.

You can imagine what braking from 100 in a hurry did to my back. Even the adrenaline kick from being so close to potential serious danger didn't stop it hurting as I watched the speeder once again getting back up to and then beyond the speed limit. The few things that I had to get at the supermarket were almost the end of me, or that's how it felt. I've been back in the horizontal position on the couch again since I got home. The pinging sensation that I felt when I got up earlier tonight make me think I'm still going to be sore tomorrow. The cars avoided damage, but I apparently did not. The car that had sparked all the drama in the first place probably hadn't even noticed what was going on, disappearing around a bend before the speeder had even finished spinning.

The best advice

I'm going slightly stir crazy at the moment. My back is still not all it should be, so I'm hemmed into my flat quite efficiently. And everybody wishing me well and offering help is actually driving me to distraction.

One of the things I've been learning while I've been if not laid up then at least slowed down, is that back pain is one of those things that everybody either has a cure for, or can recommend someone who does. So much of it is contradictory that it's of next to now use, but people feel obliged to offer up their kernels of knowledge, and I have to accept all of them like a grateful beggar on the street. I might be drawing things in a fairly harsh light here, but I've had so many recommendations of good chiropractors, osteopaths, physiotherapists, doctors, acupuncturists and masseurs that if I took them all up not only would I not be able to move even as much as I can now, I'd be getting shuttled around like a tennis ball, shunted from end to end, as I ran to all the appointments.

It's not that I'm not ungrateful. I do understand that it was concern that drove my grandmother to offer to call my aunt if there was anything wrong with me (although why I wouldn't just solve all the problems by calling my mother, who is not only a damn site closer, but able to drive, I have yet to figure. At the very least, surely I'd just call the aunt directly, if needed?). But folks, really, there's a limit to how much of this I can take, and I've about reached it. Thank god I've been a little more mobile today, even if it was just a grandmotherly shuffle. There's a light shining at the end of the tunnel. And best of all, it's not offering me any bloody advice.

Crush and burn

I'm doing it again. My expectations are getting far ahead of anything there's evidence to support. Somewhere, Hope careered wildly off its leash and ran off into the distance, taking me along for the journey. I can't complain about it too hard now. but what about when the wild ride ends, as it inevitably does, in a crash and burn situation? Well, I reserve the right to bitch and moan then.

But for now, all is sunshine and light. I've been messaging a guy online for about a week. The emails have been flying back and forth, and from the emails I was getting the impression that he was a nice enough guy. But I can usually keep myself in check when it's just emails; I know from bitter experience that a good writer of emails does not necessarily translate into a perfect fit for me. But this guy - let's call him Q - has a good enough writing style, and enough similar interest to me that we haven't struggled with emails.

The bit we have struggled with is finding a time to meet up in person. We're both studying, and both very busy with it right now. So one way or another we're not getting a face to face meeting for a week or two. And for one reason or another, I think he might be thinking along similar lines tome here, because we've exchanged phone numbers - earlier today, no less - and he called me tonight. And, over the phone at least, he seems like a nice normal guy. I know you're not supposed to do this, but he checks boxes. Intelligent enough, bit of a laugh, voice not an irritating whine, likes to read quality books, a bit of a handy-man. The boxes that can be checked without meeting someone have been ticked. And here's the thing. Once again, the anticipation is building. The delay in the face to face bit means that there's more pressure on this than there would otherwise have been. I have more time to create expectations of what he'll be like. And if he doesn't measure up to them, I'll be once again shattered. Or worse. What if I don't measure up to his expectations?

And what happens when my visa is up, if there's no great collapse of one or both of our hopes? Because he's close to his family, has a tight network of friends, from the sound of things. And he's already asked me how I handle being so far from my family. So even if things do go well in the short term, there's longer considerations.

And I'm so far ahead of myself, it's getting ridiculous. I haven't quite booked the church and named the first born, but give me a week or so and I'll be there, I'm sure. I love the buzz it gives you, the complete inability to stop smiling. The sense of crush. But I hate coming down off it and landing back in reality. Here's hoping that this time, there's more crush than crash. The details can sort themselves out.