Okay–I seriously violated the 4F’s of foot care–I’m Fat, over Forty, Flat-Footed, and on Mother’s day, I wore Flip-Flops. In doing so, I must have seriously pissed off Fungus, the minor god of Podiatry, because I am in some serious, mojo-busting pain.
It has improved a little since yesterday–I’ll give it that. Yesterday, after sitting at my desk, I moved my foot to stand up and address the students and my vision went white. I’ll give it to you–that hasn’t happened again today. No, today, I just had the Cave Troll running around the house singing “crap crap crap crap crap” because he heard me say it when I had to stand up. Unfortunately “crap crap crap crap” was better than what he was singing when I got him into the baby-sitters–I wonder how many kids are going to be running around singing “shit shit shit shit motherfucker sonovabitch holygods shit!” by the end of the day. (That could be an overstatement–all he was was chanting was “shit shit shit” but Dueant knows, that’s only because the rest of it was too rushed for him to hear.)
The students (and my older kids) are amazingly nice about it. My older kids waited on me last night–and so did my husband. Actually, it was Mate, bless him, who got an ice-pack from the freezer–he does have some experience with running injuries. I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t think about the ice pack part–must tell you, it was MAGIC! It was so magic, I woke up this morning thinking life was all better.
The gods laugh their asses off when we think shit like that, don’t they?
Although, it was funny–the Juniors are doing a comparison/contrast of an old work with a new work, and one of the new works I just heard was from Lil Wayne–it has sort of a haunting refrain (and a disturbing message, but we’ll skip my rant on that for a moment) but the refrain goes “Oh mommy, when the drugs go, I feel like dying.”
Uhm. Yeah. Blessed tylenol. Cursed two tab limit!
And that’s it. It’s a drive by whining–sorry about that! I swear, tonight, I’ll dredge up some pictures and just post them for the hell of it–no words, no whining, no neurosis–just cute pictures of my darlings Ladybug and Cave Troll. It’s the blog post that can’t go wrong.
And in the meantime, I’ll leave you with this: Have you ever thought that you could order a diet cherry coke at a bar by calling it a ‘skinny virgin’?
Oh. Really? Only me, I guess.
