Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

Last Wednesday I caught the edge of the doormat wrong when I was on my way out of the house to go to class. I turned my ankle 90 degrees inwards and hit the ground like a sack of clay, whoomp-splat. And decided that the log I was resting my head on while I wailed was made out of pillows, because in contrast to what was going on in my ankle, it was fluffy and soft. But I was so stubborn that I insisted on going to class anyway, and I’m sure I made a spectacle of myself, gimping around the building and moaning in pain.

Turns out I’ve got a grade 2 sprain of two ligaments, which means that they’re partially torn. How annoying. The doctor said to expect a couple of months of swelling, and all the itinerant tingling and numbness and discomfort that go along with it.

Fighting for one of the far-away parking spaces at school tomorrow should be fun.

1) I have scored not one, but two Bags of Crap in the last week. So has Hub.

2) I register for my last two semesters of college tomorrow.

3) Just a few hours after I posted my resume the other day, I got a job offer for something very big, cool, and exciting. It’s also very intense, so I may be updating here even less frequently than normal, if that’s possible. Be happy for me, because I am.