So, the one weekend we had major plans this month has turned out to be the one weekend the guy finishing up the software project for Ken was free. So Ken headed off to Portland yesterday. I went through the five stages of grief on Tuesday and early Wednesday and then got over it. It’s annoying, but it’s not the end of the world.
Then what happens today? I head out to the car to go to my hair appointment so I can look fabulous for my book signing on Saturday, and I fall off the curb and sprain my ankle (and put a hole in my lone pair of jeans and scrape up my knee, too). Shit. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that. It’s bad enough that I heard the tendon (or is a ligament?) popping out of its channels. It’s not as bad as some sprains I’ve done (like the time I climbed Mt. Lassen, made it down within sight of the parking lot, stepped on a loose rock, and kablooey. Two weeks before we were to move from Redding to Oxnard.), which is something of a relief. But it's enough to keep me seated with my foot elevated with ice for a few days (I'll hobble to the booksigning, but everything else is doubtful right now).
Oddly, I've sprained my left ankle half a dozen times (several quite badly) over the years, but only sprained my right once until today.
I have such impeccable timing…
On the plus side, it doesn't seem to have bunged up my back any more than usual!