My roommate Liv is having a very, very bad day today. Like most bad days, this one actually started last night. We had a plan to meet some friends downtown for dinner, and then go to see the East Village Opera Company, a group that performs opera songs to hard rock accompaniments. As we were eating, I could tell that Liv’s legs were already hurting. She kept rubbing them, hoping that by engaging the motor-control nerves the brain would be distracted from the signals the pain nerves were sending. I saw her doing it and expressed concern, but she was doing her best The Smile On My Face Means We’re All Fine Here, Just Fine, How Are You? impression, so I left it alone.

Then we went to the concert. I was enjoying it some, partly because I love opera so I’m familiar with the music, but it wasn’t thrilling me. The way they transposed the orchestra parts for electrical guitar, etc. was cool, and they had some very nice effects. But their vocalists just weren’t up to the challenge. It was a man and a woman, fine vocalists, but much more rock singers than opera singers. And friends, opera demands some serious chops. They didn’t have them. They couldn’t stand up to the music, and they especially couldn’t stand up to their own accompaniment. They were good, almost great, but the “almost” was heartbreaking. The saddest was when they did Nessun Dorma, and turned what should be a freaking powerhouse show-stopper of a song into something merely nice. Plus, the lighting was a little annoying, all rock-concert strobey. That works great in an arena, but we were in the smaller formal theatre where they usually have ballet performances. It was a little much.

At one point I leaned over to tell Liv something about the aria. As soon as she turned to face me I knew she was not doing well, but was trying to hide it. It turns out that strobe lights, loud music, and a low, throbbing bass are a bad, bad combination with anti-convulsant medication (which Liv takes as part of her medical treatment). I wrote her a note on the program asking if she was ok and if she needed to go home. She wrote back that she did, but that if I would give her my house key (she had left her keys at home since I was with her), she would grab a bus. When Liv starts talking about buses, she was ready to leave yesterday. Thankfully the handicapped seating was at the very back of the theatre so we were able to quietly slip away. It was good that we left when we did. Liv threw up once on the way to the car (discreetly down a sewer grating), once while we were driving home (opening the door while we were at a light), and once into the yew bushes beside the porch when we finally got there. It was pretty bad.

This morning Liv was looking some better, although still far from recovered. She was leaning against the counter talking to me while I was eating breakfast and got dizzy. I suggested that perhaps she shouldn’t go in to school today, but after thinking about it a little she decided that she would anyway.

When we left the house, Liv was loaded down as usual. Imagine a small woman in a wheelchair with a very large, blue backpack jammed with anything you might possibly need for several hours studying slung on the back. Slung underneath the backpack is a gym bag, packed tight with bathing suit, towel, etc. All was well until she went to roll over the curb on her way to my car. This is usually not a problem. We have an unusually low curb, and Liv is very good at going over them. This time… no.

I heard a whump! and looked up to see Liv sprawled on her butt in the gutter, her bags magically separated from the chair supporting her back, and the chair rolling towards the center of the street. One of Liv’s shoes had come off from the impact. It seems the chair had gone off balance and started to tip over when she went over the curb. Her big bags hit first and came off. The chair slid out from under Liv and, freed from the weight, popped back upright and continued on its merry way. It was so startling and unexpected, and the picture she made was so comical. It was like something out of a movie or a cartoon – even down to the shoe coming off. Plus, it had been raining all morning, so the gutter she got dumped in was full of water.

I retrieved the chair, Liv got herself back into it, and we continued on to school. Liv did her best to dry off on the way, but was only partially successful before I dropped her off at the library with a hug. I haven’t talked to her since, so I don’t know if the badness has continued. I do hope it hasn’t. This is quite enough for one day!

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