Saturday night we went downtown to get some drinks. I wore spikey three inch heels. And then I consumed many many gin and tonics and one tiny shot of tequila and then the bar closed.
And there were no taxis to be found. We saw lots of them, but other people got into them. And I did not want to stand still.
So, I took off my shoes and I walked the mile and a half home barefoot. (Insert bad Kentucky joke here.) I put my shoes on everytime we crossed the street. I'm not sure why; I was drunk.
Sunday morning I woke up and the entire bottom of my right big toe has become a blister. And my feet were generally a bit angry.
And then today, I was at work and it was late and I was the last person in the office. I finished my work and picked up a very large binder so I could put it away. I was still seated when I fell down.
Read that again. I was still seated when I fell down. I am very, very special.
So, I took a quick inventory. I hit my collar bone on the desk top. Can I move my arm? Yes. That doesn't hurt too much at all. My wrist hit the floor... it's fine...
My left ankle banged something. Banged it hard. Banged it really hard. Can it move? It does move. Moving it makes me want to cry. You can't cry or panic or whatever, mary ann, because there is no one here to keep shit together for you. You have to go home.
Do not look at your ankle. Can you walk? You can walk. Let's hurry up and get out of here. I walked down the stairs from the third floor and across the parking lot to my car. So far so good.
It's getting worse. It's only a tiny bit swollen, relative to my other probably still swollen from that whole drunken Saturday night from which they were still sore, and it's not hardly bruised at all.
My left ankle fucking HURTS. On the plus side, that giant blister on the other foot is really not a big deal anymore...
