I feel talented. Oh, yes.
Yesterday I managed to not only trip, but also to fall off a flat surface, sprain my ankle, and STILL not spill my venti soy chai.

Well, it wasn’t exactly a flat surface.
And I feel more pathetic than talented.

Our garage has, at the driveway end, a 2-inch drop from the floor of the garage to the cement surface of the driveway. Last night, after we returned from PetsMart, dinner, and Barnes and Noble, I was walking around to the back of the car, to get the bag of books, and instead of watching the ground, I was looking up, hoping to avoid having a gecko fall into my hair (They’re harmless, but, ish, who wants one in their hair?).

First the world went out of balance, and then there was a soft crunchy sound, as my ankle twisted, and all my weight went onto the side of my foot. I’m sure I looked like the scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz in that moment, except, you know, more busty and better dressed, but all I felt was hot flames of pain.

I limped pathetically into the mud room, reclaimed my chai (it had been rescued by Fuzzy and placed on the washer), and then herded the dogs in front of me to the kitchen, where I could sit, and they could greet me without knocking me over.

Two ibuprofen and 20 ounces of chai later, I was able to do laundry. We made it to bed at 4:30. This morning, after a painful walk to the bathroom on a foot that still hurts and an ankle that is stiff, more than actually swollen, I made Fuzzy wrap an Ace bandage for me.

Two more ibuprofen, and I managed the stairs to sit here, in front of my computer – my beloved green and aluminum desktop thing, lovingly reassembled by my husband (mostly, I suspect, to stop my incessant whining about my slow, dying laptop).

Yeah, I’m talented.
Or something.