It's A Nine
Friday Musings & Recommends
This week I had to drive to a doctor’s appointment in WESTWOOD, in the MORNING. It was 90 minutes, mostly on surface streets. I’d gotten like 2 hours of sleep thanks to a combination of toddler sleep regression and HOCKEY ROMANCE NOVELS. (You know the ones.)
When I am unhappy while driving I will yell things like, “This is the worst!” and “I’m losing my will to live!”
It was the kind of office where you go into a second waiting room to do vitals, while they find a room to put you in. Highly choreographed and efficient. (And then the blood-draw lab was the OPPOSITE. Anyway.)
I saw someone hunched over in a wheelchair and at first didn’t realize it was a fairly young guy, maybe mid-20s. He stood when he was called to the vitals station and the nurse sitting at the computer asked, are you in pain? What’s the number?
His response was, “It’s a nine.”
I was blown away because — well, if asked for a number, I typically reply, “I hate having to give it a number.” Because I have the feminine tendency to underestimate my pain. Like, I don’t know if I’ve ever gone above calling my pain a 6 or 7, and that includes like — broken bones and having a baby.
So to hear him say “a nine,” I was like — omg, how is he talking? How is he conscious? How is he not in the ICU?
The nurse just kind of noted it, then asked him, “Are you ready for the holidays?”
The holidays?! Who can think of the holidays when your pain is at a NINE?! Who can make small talk??
I keep thinking about that exchange. Like — what?
It kinda lines up with how I feel lately when people just kind of conversationally ask me, How’s it going? How’s work? If you ask this question of anyone who works in the industry right now and isn’t, like, Ryan Murphy level employed, they are probably stifling some version of, “NOT GREAT. I’m PANICKING.”
I might kind of half-laugh and say, “It’s going.” Or, “Well… I’m alive?”
A lot of us are at a nine, on the wtf is my life going to be, how will I make money? scale. Maybe even an eleven. We survived ‘til ‘25, and… now it’s the end of the year and the prognosis is still bleak for most of us.
Speaking of things that are a nine (iykyk), I was not really aware of Heated Rivalry until it started airing on HBO last week, and now reading the book series it’s based on has been a fun escape from… gestures at everything (including a super-long wait at the blood-draw lab).
Heated Rivalry is where I thoughts Boots would be on the spiciness scale, but then was not. (I still liked Boots a lot!)
Lately romance novels are kind of my biggest escape, and I would say I tend to read books that are probably on the 3-4 spicy pepper scale (or I guess it’s called the steam scale). (I also aspire to write them at about that level.)
Heated Rivalries is a hard 5 (no pun intended). In fact, it’s off the scale. It might be a 9. So be forewarned, do not watch this with your parents over the holidays. It is not Hallmark movie hockey. It makes Bridgerton blush.
It’s also interesting to dive into the lives of (fictional) people who are rich and hot and successful but still have problems. Sexy hockey stars, just like us! (… Maybe.)
I’m not sure how to end this, except to ask… Are YOU ready for the holidays?
Okay, here’s another one: What’s your favorite steam number? Are you into glimpses and kisses? (That phrase makes me laugh.) Or a little more?