Isn't it weird that when you're not allowed to do something you automatically really want to do it? Example: I get urges to work out every single Sunday {can't. must. keep. the sabbath day. holy.}. And don't even get me started on how much I want to touch museum displays, what with their shiny DO NOT TOUCH signs...
Today I want my cast to be off. Gone. Expired. Taken back to the magical land of medical supplies. Buried ceremoniously with a 21-gun salute. Thrown in a dumpster. I'm not picky.
If I had my cast off, I'd be able to take a regular shower again. No more bending at weird angles, no more inhuman distortions to keep my foot sticking out of the tub. Although I am getting pretty good at weird showers. Just so you know.
Also, my grandpa has a knee scooter, just like me. We think we're pretty cool.
This is the part where I pretend to be a fashion blogger:
shirt: 5 for $6.50 at walmart. In the mens underwear section.
jeans: charlotte russe. $10 on clearance. sam says they make my butt look good.
medical boot: free, issued from the podiatry clinic.
jewelery: none... I was just proud I finally felt up to doing my hair, okay?! Baby steps.
Hah. This is why I'm not a fashion blogger.
Well, now's as good a time as any to mention that in my apartment, the bathroom on the right is haunted. Which, incidentally, is the bathroom I have to take weird shower-baths in. Also, sometimes the toilet in that bathroom regurgitates, which is just gross.
Wishing you the best of Thursdays, free of haunted bathrooms and medical supply boots.
