Literally Losing It

Here’s an interesting grammar tidbit I learned today:

The definition of the word literally has changed. Historically, literally meant “actually; without exaggeration or inaccuracy:” or “used to emphasize the truth and accuracy of a statement or description.”

But now, because so many people have used it incorrectly for so long, the dictionary has added a new definition: “used for emphasis or to express strong feeling while not being actually true.”

Which means when I say it literally never rains it pours, it’s now unclear if I’m actually being literal or figurative. Which is actually kind of lucky because, in this narrow instance, I'm being both.

Figuratively speaking, I have a lot of rain in my life right now. Skin cancer, moving to a new house, getting the old house ready to put on the market…call me a drama queen but it’s a lot to deal with! Adding kidney stones to that mix is, in my humble opinion, a metaphorical “pouring” of epic proportions.

Particularly since the latest attack came as we were LITERALLY moving. After I got off work Saturday, Opie and I loaded up the car with  boxes and headed over to the new house. Then, when we were about a mile away, I got hit with a pain that was FIGURATIVELY like a small animal had somehow materialized in my guts and was earnestly attempting to eat its way out.

Good times.

Especially for Opie because as soon as we got to the house, I LITERALLY stumbled to the bedroom, shoved a couple pillows together (we hadn't moved the bed yet) and collapsed on the floor...though not before carefully positioning myself near enough the door that I could see what he was carrying in in order to yell encouraging suggestions to him.

This situation was not noticeably enhanced by the fact that the boxes I’d packed and intended to carry were not organized in an Opie-approved fashion. By which I mean, my boxes not only didn’t clearly identify contents but generally also only had things like “upstairs” or “downstairs” written on them

“Where does this go?” Opie would demand.

“It says upstairs,” I’d snap back.

And he’d be all “Where upstairs? Guest room? Office? Exercise room?”

“JUST TAKE IT UPSTAIRS!” I’d shout then. “I’ll figure it out later—UNLESS I FREAKING DIE RIGHT HERE ON THE FLOOR!”

It’s somewhat miraculous his head didn’t pop right off. (Figuratively sneaking of course).

But, speaking literally again, this is when the whole it never rains it pours thing came back into play. Because this was when the gentle rain turned into a torrential downpour. A “The Heavens Opened And We Should Think About Building An Ark” kind of downpour.  Which in its own right would have made moving difficult but was made significantly worse when the tornado sirens went off.

Take a moment and try to picture this moment of marital bliss…I’m lying on the floor, contemplating death, checking weather updates on my phone because we didn’t have television or computers set up yet, screaming at Opie to take shelter, and he is resolutely marching in and out of the house with boxes in his arms, muttering under his breath…no doubt speculating on how boring his life was before I popped into it.

“Twitter says they’re evacuating hospital rooms!” I yelled as he stomped back into the garage. “The weather channel says we need to get to a safe room or a basement!”

(Except, of course, we don’t have a basement. Our storm readiness plan is prayer.)

“Do not go back in that garage!” I yelled as he stomped back by. “I am not emotionally equipped to see you buried in tornado rubble!”

“You’re the one who keeps saying buying this house was fate, that it was meant to be,” he retorted. “If it’s meant to be, it’s not going to be hit by a tornado.”

And even though I really hate it when he uses my own words against me, I guess he was right because both houses survived the storm with no trouble.

So, even though it literally and figuratively is pouring all over us again right now, things are going pretty well. I had the last of my stitches out this morning and the doc thinks the scars are “coming along nicely.” And the kidney stones suck but they could be worse…like when my brother got them ON HIS HONEYMOON while he and his wife were CAMPING ON A VOLCANO.

Fair warning, though, the news is predicting earth-shattering storms tonight with the high possibility of tornadoes so there's a pretty good chance that I will spend hours and hours sharing hysterical weather alerts and screaming at Opie to take shelter.

And I mean that literally!