I did drag Ed to the ER last night for my foot, for all the good it did me (hint: none). It didn’t take nearly as long as my last hospital trip did for a dislocated shoulder, but I didn’t get any fun laughing gas this time. They took several x-rays, I got poked at, and eventually they sent me home with “well, if it still hurts in two weeks, come back”. That isn’t really helpful – if my foot still hurts like this in two weeks, I’m going to be a very angry basket case. Also, the x-rays didn’t show a break at all – shit hurts so bad I figured I’d be broken in nine places – so the stereotypically handsome doctor man opined that it could be a ligament problem, or a break that will show up after many days of painful limping. That sucks. However, he did give me a very interesting diagnosis: my foot ligaments are weak like kittens, and I should spend as much time as possible in bare feet to strengthen them up. OKAY! I CAN DO THAT! I hate wearing shoes; they’re like pants for your feet.

I told the doctor my history with the League of Disastrous Foot Men, and he said there was no way I should have been prescribed orthotic robot feet because they’d make things much, much worse. This was exactly my line of thinking the entire time I had the robot feet, because it was while wearing them that I had the worst foot pain of my life. I stopped wearing them when I couldn’t take the feeling of my knees rotting from the inside out for a second longer, and eventually things got a lot better. I’m often guilty of ignoring medical advice, but in this instance it turned out to be the best course of action. I love being validated and also able to walk!

So, here I am. My foot hurts like crazy, walking is a terrible adventure in loud swearing and wincing, and as I expected, there’s Shit Fuck All I can do about it. Whee!

Also, being at the hospital without a) taking off my pants and b) having a series of strangers all looking up in my lady business like it’s an interesting new species of sea life is really weird.

All that said, things are great. I love my job to a ridiculous degree, our house didn’t burn down last night, I am exceptionally cute today, and it’s the first of May – summer is almost here, which means barefoot good times and BBQ’d meat. Then? LONDON!

Oh right, the house: last night around 9, Ed called me into the living room to help Find the Smell. For over an hour last night, there was an impossibly strong stench of burning electricals all up in the air – it was bad enough that we started to feel all weird from the chemical smelliness of it all. We unplugged things, turn off power  bars, and sniffed at anything that had wires in case they were the source of the burning – and nothing. The smell only started to dissipate after we opened all the windows and after several hours, but it was still around this morning. Ed is stressed out, convinced the house is going to explode while we’re at work. I’m annoyed, because we JUST got rid of the Hobo Poop Pot Smoke and now there’s a new horrible smell. WHY MUST THINGS BE SO DIFFICULT AND/OR SMELLY? IT IS SAD TIMES FOR MY FOOT AND NOSE.

So, there’s a mystery. Hopefully we solve it soon. Like, before all our electronics burn up in the atmosphere.

I am pleased for May!