Several times lately I’ve sat down here to write and realized that things I wanted to say needed to be explained and didn’t have the time or energy to get into the whole whatever so I just didn’t write. And Lord knows I don’t need one more reason to add to the list as long as my arm that’s keeping me from writing here. So if you can find it in your heart to bear with me and muddle through a bunch of uninteresting but necessary (to me) details so that I can maneuver around this bump and move on, I’ll love you forever.
So I saw the foot doctor on Thursday. He’s more or less satisfied with how my foot has healed (nearly 100%) but concerned about the pain I’ve had elsewhere in my foot since the boot came off. So he wrote me a script for an anti-inflammatory and ambushed me with a hypo gave me a big-ass shot of cortisone in that little hollow spot in front of my outside ankle bone. Crikey, that “pinched.” Kind of like the same way a guillotine pinches your neck. Incidentally, I lost the bandaid somewhere in my bed between that night and this morning when I woke up and found it pasted to my right ass cheek. WTF. He told me to keep doing what I’m doing, stop when it hurts and come back on July 30.
Yesterday I decided I was totally fed up with sitting around and cleaned my whole house and did laundry and brought the rest of my summer clothes out of the attic. PD and I decided we felt like entertaining so we invited some friends over to sample his recent acquirance of bison meat and I spent a couple of hours making supplementary food and getting the back yard ready for guests. In other words, I totally abused my foot. And it felt good. (The abusing of, not the foot, per se.)
Work is still the same, basically but with a few thousand twists. No need to elaborate, so I won’t. *Yawn* HR is being a pain in the ass, starting to pressure me about not working the over time. They can’t quite seem to understand the complicated medical term “until further notice.” Duh already.
In case you’re wondering, I still can’t get below 10 cigarettes per day and no, my weight has not changed despite the massive amounts of food I ingest on a daily basis. Is there such a thing as a tapeworm with a nicotine addiction? Surely there must be. I must confess though, that several times on recent weekends, due to the frequency of friends dropping over to enjoy a fire and a few beers, I’ve gone over my daily limit. I know. You can’t say anything I haven’t thought or heard already. But thanks.
So now we’re up to par on the foot/work/cig/weight fronts. Now I can move on to other things.
Oh wait! The old guy? The Friday before Father’s Day, I spotted him (standing this time) on his porch. Still with that faraway stare out into space, hands folded on the crook of a cane. A car was parked in front of his house this time and a younger man was leaning into the back seat. Led me to wonder if he’d had a visitor and who and why and a zillion other things for the rest of my drive home.
And YES I’m loving being able to drive again! JOY JOY JOY 🙂