(no subject)
They said I couldn't go home tonight unless I have a ride. Something about morphine and it being late and me being shaken up still.
Oh yeah, I'm at the hospital.
Can someone pick me up? I'll pay for gas.
Oh yeah, so the story of what happened is, I was walking across the street from Starbucks back to work with a carrier full of coffees and some asshole jerk in a SUV pulls around the corner and ran into me!
So I ruined my favorite sweater that Allison got me for Christmas, my coat has to go to the cleaners, and I broke a rib. Plus I feel like I probably resemble someone who lost a fight to Mike Tyson, except for thankfully no one has bitten me yet. Though that may happen, because this hospital is kind of scary.
But that also may be the morphine.