September 7 - I actually could take a bottom of my foot picture, just not one that was good enough to show the extent of my latest mishap.

 I know it’s quite early, but I have decided to go to bed a lot earlier tonight, to prevent the proverbial Things Happen In Threes. 

The first was really the newest Mrs Vokey’s fault, as I felt the need to explain to her how yesterday’s fisherman killed his salmon by punching it several times; the poor fish was flipping and flopping around so much, I guess it impeded his aim. I hope at least two of the punches missed and landed on the dock. However, I was sitting in the rocking chair (being an old granny-type figure (with an old granny-type figure)), holding a mug of coffee on my lap, when I brought one fisted hand up in the air, to show her exactly what he was doing and brought it down BAM on my lap. Needless to say, I ended up wearing the coffee instead of drinking it, and I can imagine that Nikkie was glad my story-telling was over. 

The next couple of hours were uneventful , as I spent them thinking about all the things I could be doing, instead of actually doing them. Then Howard wanted to go out for lunch so we ended up at his favourite spot ( and my least) and shared a Cheddar Beefsteak Charlie’s Sub sandwich. And since the food court is right beside a dollar store, I dropped in and bought a few more plastic containers, as I have developed a love of putting things in said containers. 

Then home. Still uneventful, but draining on my low stamina levels, so after some Calcium and Vitamin Ds to keep my Rheumatologist happy - she actually had her assistant phone me a few weeks ago to make sure I was taking my Vitamin D - I got in a bit of relaxation with Keeping Up Appearances, on Britbox. 

Then downstairs, as I promised to make Sharon’s Waikiki Meatballs for supper, once again. But it certainly wasn’t part of my plan to step on the mat in front of the kitchen sink and catch a wasp between my second and third toes. And even though I freaked out trying to dislodge that little (I have to partly say it) f&@$@er from my foot, killing it along the way, I know for a fact I didn’t inflict nearly as much pain in it, as it did on me. Because here I am, more than six hours later, with a double dose of T1s inside me, with the whole toe end of my foot feeling  like it was attacked by a blender.

Oh well. At least it’s an excuse to not do much else, as it’s really painful to walk on. In fact, I can’t. I have to walk on the side of my foot, and that’s not particularly fun when my balance is still a bit off. 

So, that’s why I’m going to bed early