One evening last week, as I watched Angel (or something like it) in the living room, I heard a big crash on the stairs to the basement (where we sleep and where my office is.) Edmund fell down the stairs and went boom. He’s okay, but he might have broken his butt or something. The bruise didn’t start looking good until today.
As we drove around on Saturday and I took corners and went over bumps he expressed his dismay and his being-in-painness. I was amused. Working on Sunday/Monday he was in pain too. I giggled.
I should probably be more empathetic.
Come to find out, he truly might have fractured something in his butt (or bruised it), so at the advice of one of his nurse friends, I went on a quest for a butt pillow after work on Monday.
Love is buying your sweetie a butt pillow.
I found one at CVS. It was inflatable. No problem, I’m a professional inflator (aka balloon twister), I can blow it up.
I couldn’t blow it up.
I think we needed to poke a hole in the nozzle or something. Edmund went back on Tuesday (aka yesterday) to return/replace it. They only had the one type.
On the way home last night, we stopped at Walgreens and purchased this bad boy:
Well, Ed purchased it and I stayed in the car and read my book. (I posted about my book reading last night, so I won’t talk about it here.)
So now we are the proud owners of a working foamy butt pillow.
Name of my next band: Foamy Butt Pillow.