The Old Gray Mare...

Yeah, she ain't what she used to be. Okay, so I'm only 31 years old. Yes, I'm admitting my actual age. Now, I don't want to downplay what happened to my friend earlier today, because it was truly devastating. However, I didn't think the day could get any worse, and yet, it somehow did. After V and I came home from an outing with our new moms group, I put him down for his nap and then, went outside through the garage to get our cat, who had escaped (again) from the house when we had come inside. She had parked herself on the lower steps leading up to our front door from the driveway. I managed to walk up to her and grab her before she could run away from me. I don't know how many steps I'd gone up, but I definitely missed one or two coming down, landed wrong on my left ankle, and skinned both of my knees on the driveway. For some strange reason, B, who happened to be home early from work and playing on his laptop on the back deck, couldn't hear me scream from the front of the house. I managed to limp into the house and up the steps through the kitchen to the deck. After learning what had happened, B checked my ankle and told me to take Iboeprofen and wear sturdy shoes (meaning NOT my sandals) for the next few days. So, I've spent most of the rest of the day either sitting on our new love seat with my feet up watching TV/surfing the 'Net (I'm so glad the love seat reclines!), or limping after V and up and down the stairs of our house. I have no idea how my ankle will feel tomorrow, and I'm dreading the worst, but seeing as it's not broken, I'll just have to live through the pain and just get on with it. I know things could be a lot worse. And, hey, all this sitting around with the laptop on my lap has led me to iTunes, where I just downloaded the soundtrack to "Dr. Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog", and am now listening to it for the second time on my iPod Mini while writing this blog post. So, I guess it isn't all bad. Yeah, I'm sure I'll be thinking that tomorrow morning when I wake up and try to put weight on my left ankle. At 31 years old, I've realized I don't heal as quickly as I used to, like the fact that I still have a cough two weeks after getting over conSARS from Gen Con. Sigh...I guess after I'm done here, I'll load up one of the episodes of "Star Trek: The Next Generation" that's been recorded on our DVR and wax nostalgic about my youth.
Best to you all,
Amanda