I know you all have been on pins and needles regarding my hostage situation AKA my boot. Will it go on the cruise with her? Will it continue to follow her like a stalker? Well, the answer is “yes” to both of those questions. It seems, friends, that I will be hanging on to this delightful fashion statement for a while.
As if I don’t have enough to do to get ready for this trip, I have to get an MRI, on Thursday, to see what we are really working with, in terms of damage to the tendon. Sigh. On a positive note, I only have to pack one shoe instead of pairs, so there is an abundance of room in my suitcase. It is all about perspective, right?
Preparing for travel almost always makes me a little squirrely. Don’t misunderstand, I am excited about a few days to soak up some sun, connect with friends, and hopefully, escape the plot my appendage has to kill me. (I swear it has it out for me.) But, I can easily get swept up in scenarios of things that will happen while I am gone. Can you imagine the detail that goes on in my head? It might as well be a new book idea.
Getting past all of the muck in my crazy neighborhood, or as some people might refer to it as my mind, there is the vanity portion of my process. My toes are freshly painted and I got my haircut yesterday. Friday, I will be getting a spray tan because I don’t want to be responsible for blinding someone with my pastiness. Yesterday, I spent some time plucking my beard. Where the hell did those big, black hairs come from? It’s like they have a party and reproduce all over my chin literally overnight. Because I don’t have a fancy mirror with lights, I improvise. I am like MacGyver. I propped my cell phone up and used its flashlight to project onto my chin, while using a dollar store mirror. Fancy. Brian walks by and I inform him that I am plucking my chin hairs. He really didn’t ask for an explanation, but I like to keep our marriage fresh. I got the look that says, “Okay, crazy lady. I don’t really need to hear about your crop of chin hairs.”. It is a shame he can’t value that level of intimacy.
This trip is going to allow me to work on my relationship with my appendage. Maybe I can be more accepting of it while it refrains from making me look extremely awkward as I navigate walking with what appears to resemble one of Darth Vader’s boots. Maybe it will help me steer clear of furniture, walls, and anything else in my path, instead of how it seems to project me into inanimate objects. We just need to learn how to coexist.
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