To clogs.
It's finally happened. The little paranoid nightmare in the back of my mind has finally come true.
On Saturday night SFG and I went to
Franklin Fountain. On wrong misstep in my Dankso tartans and bam! One osseous avulsion fracture along the dorsal talar head, or one broken left foot.
I tripped on a step and twisted my foot. After I almost fainted and threw up from the pain, SFG hailed a cab and dragged me home. I think everyone thought I was absurdly wasted because I said I wanted to throw up and pass out out loud. This was Old City after all. They see that kind of stuff all the time.
Yesterday SFG and I worked at The Canary for the last day of the Hellish Parade of Red Hat Society Followers,
erm Flower Show. It was a crazy week and it ended on a crazier note.
So now I am laid up in bed for the day with ugly shoe thingy and crutches until I get to the podiatry institute on Friday to decide what they're going to do with my foot.
Remember: Clogs can kill.
Or at least painfully maim.