So it was a Long. Rainy. Windy. Cold weekend - And what could be more fun than to help someone move. Joy. Not so much fun, but they are good friends and getting them settled into their first house was so worth it. It just seemed so comforting seeing their furniture all set up in what would soon be "home", instead of just another place to live. We started at 11am, Earl threw his back out at 5:30 lifting a 5 lb. box (just goes to show you it doesnt matter how much you're lifting, but rather how you're lifting it), finished getting everything in its place by 7:30, and we were back home, snuggled up in the couch with our jammies on by 8:30.

Earl was/is in some pretty nasty pain. I gave him the Darvocet that the oral surgeon gave me for my tooth, which helped him out a bit and then he spent about an hour in the shower letting the water beat on his back. Sunday he didn't come downstairs until 4:30pm, and when he did, he looked quite crooked and was sporting a Quazymoto strut. He stayed home today, which is for the best, but now I have to do this commute by myself - which sucks just because it does.

Last week, I was pulling out of our street which is a severe incline up a long hill. There was a line of cars coming up doing about 40mph, but they hadn't reached the bend yet and I had time to get in front. As car and I pulled out, I shifted out of first, naturally attempting to make it to second, but alas, I got caught in neutral because the seat gave out and flung me back to the setting made for people with six foot long legs.

While this would not be such a big deal on a normal, flat, quite road - it was huge deal being that I was 1) on a highway 2) at the front of the line of traffic that didn't yet know I was there, and 3) was really rather depending on gravity working with me - not against me.

In an instant, not only could I not reach the pedals anymore but I also found myself clinging onto the bottom of the steering wheel just to hold my torso up.

For a second I was stunned, but in the next instant I remembered about a certain bunch of cars flying up behind me doing 40 and here I am cruising at a nice 10... and getting slower because I'm in neutral. The only thing I could say was OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD while I'm kicking at the pedals trying to make my legs sprout another few inches to reach the clutch...

Not working.

So I scoot. I scoot and I scoot, down just enough to get my big toe on the clutch. I have to forget about trying to see the road and pray the cars coming up see that I'm not really moving. I push my big toe as hard as I could and get the clutch down enough to get the car in gear - thank dog I wasn't in gear already because soon enough I would have stalled which would have made my situation even more difficult. With the car in second, I slid my foot over to the gas and floored it. Car doesn't want to be in second and sluggishly starts to move up the hill.

I know without looking that all the cars are now on my ass wondering what the fuck I'm doing. I still have it floored, car is now begging for third, and I have one hand on the steering wheel pulling my torso up while the other hand is yanking the lever under the seat...

It pops and I jerk the seat forward. I can see again. Once here, I can advance to third and car is happy...

But I turn off the road, catch my breath, call Earl on the cell and scream hysterically that I almost died, and turn around to go back home. I retreat to my bed, curl up in the fetal position and try to go through what just happened and how I could have reacted more efficiently.

I'm nuts. I know.

I realize that I was probably more scared than I was in danger. Soon enough I'm feeling a bit better and go back downstairs, demand that the seat gets fixed, and cut myself off a nice piece of Boars Head prosciutto and mozzarella roll to make it all better -

which it did.