The Bears apparently still suck.
It took the cheeseheads 1 minute and 43 seconds to score, which wouldn’t be so bad if say, they had started with the ball.
My ankle is JACKED.
I was at Jazzercise Saturday morning, all ‘skip-ball-change HOP! skip-ball-change HOP! skip-ball-change HOP! skip-ball-change HOLY BANANA COVERED SNOW FROM PIRATES! WHAT THE GROUND HOG DAY JUST HAPPENED?????!!!!!’
I pretty much touched the arch of my foot to my ankle bone and then landed on it.
Just writing that hurts.
It kinda looks like someone painted it purple, blue and puffy.
And before you go all “DID YOU SEE A DOCTOR” on me, A. I am still (STILL) paying off my surgery from a year ago. and B. I didn’t hear the infamous “crack” sound you hear so much about when bones break, so I’m banking on it just being sprained, in which case, I can implement RICE (rest, ice, compress, elevate) by my own self, thank you very much.
I will say that going to the bathroom has turned into a medal-worthy project involving mostly unused arm muscles and trusting a wall-mounted toilet paper holder to bear more weight than the manufacturer recommends.
Luckily, my family is so freaking awesome that as soon as I called my mom with tears in my eyes, she gathered up my sister, my niece, my grandma, a pair of crutches and some taco bell and they all came over.
Without them I’d be avoiding water so as cancel out unnecessary ladies’ room trips, living on peanut butter from the jar (I don’t really grocery shop), and using lukewarm water to ice my ankle because getting fresh ice would suck too much. Plus, I’m pretty sure my roommate doesn’t want to help me into shower – making me (much appreciated) eggs with cheese and soy chik’n strips was more her limit.
Now excuse while I take 3 advil, watch the Bears lose, and contemplate how exactly I will drive with my left foot tomorrow.