So, my “spring” break turned into a “sprain” break, but at least it wasn’t a spring “break.”
But don’t let me cast a shadow over your week.
I sprained my ankle a week ago, even though I walk like it was just yesterday. My foot is positively swelling with pride – bruised pride, to add insult to injury.
I’ve had a swell week so far limping around campus at one-third my normal walking speed. (I’ve been particularly savoring the 40-minute round trip walk to Newcomer and back to my house.)
Going anywhere on campus is a joint effort between me and my foot.
My altered gait tends to gain attention from human onlookers. Responses from other humans I have encountered range from eye-contact avoidance to, “Would you like a ride in my forklift to your destination?”
Why, yes, actually, I’ll take you up on that forklift ride.
Since my only conversational topic at the moment is answering the question, “How did you sprain it?” I’ve recently remembered a series of unfortunate events. My misfortunes, in order:
1. Time-traveled to the ‘90s and hopped on a Pogo stick while wearing roller blades
2. Almost successfully outran a cheetah on the Serengeti
3. Tried to play footsie with a bowling ball (and lost)
4. Threw a temper tantrum and stomped my foot too hard
5. Balanced on the ceramics wheel at full speed for an entire 3 seconds
6. Discovered my knack for ballet, and subsequently, my lack of knack for ballet
In other news, I actually managed to drop my entire bowl into the compost bin at Rottlawn Dining Hall today.