I've been out-of-sorts and out of my groove, and there are half a dozen things I could blame it on - or heck, at that rate it could all be cumulative. I choose to blame primarily my feet.
What I thought was a blister at first has turned into an ingrown toenail of what I would like to call epic proportions, except as this being the first proper one I've ever suffered (thank the stars) I don't really have any basis for comparison.
I don't cope exceptionally well with long-term pain, I've learned. This instance is no exception, barring the fact that as I wasn't prepared for the undertaking, it took me off guard. What do I mean by prepared? If you break a leg, or have surgery, or even simply acquire a nasty paper-cut, you can usually rearrange your situation to avoid constantly irritating the injury.
But toes are so far away. And walking is such a without-a-thought activity. I do far more casual walking about than I had imagined, even when I'm trying to minimize it. Even socks are painful, so I am reduced to wearing my salt-water sandals - which I love, but which are not designed for, say, arch support. Then there are the fellow walkers (or transit patrons) who are not paying any attention to the location of their feet, until your howls of agony alert them (possibly) that they've just kicked yours.
Thankfully I grumped my way out to Wallingford yesterday afternoon for my massage therapy with about the last of my natural energy, after which I feel much relieved. In spite of an hour and a half on the bus to get there, with a succession of creepy guys sitting across from me. Are there any communities even less "friendly" than Seattle I could move to? Where even the creeps and the transplants won't try to start clearly unwanted casual conversation? No, I didn't really think so.
Anyway, I still feel pretty crappy, but in a much more zen way - I feel like I can deal with it now, as opposed to being swimming upstream all week. I think, after a major cleaning offensive and rearrangement, that I have convinced the ants my computer is non-edible. (Please, let it be so!) I finally, by dint of using the library's internet connection and printers, got my stupid tax forms to print so I could review them and send them on their merry way. (If Adobe Reader 7 is such hot shit, why is the universe still writing help that only gives instructions for people with versions 4 or 5 or maybe 6? Wait, maybe I've answered my own question there.)
I'm still hobbling around like an invalid, and I desperately need to go grocery shopping, and my toe still hurts, but I'm coping - and I have enough energy to write, finally, which in turn increases my energy and feeling of well-being. Look, there were a couple of days there when I wasn't even up to playing video games, and how rare is that? Heh.
So there is the latest snapshot of my life for your examination, grainy and with my thumb half-covering the lens. Say cheese! Mmm, cheese. Something of cheese for breakfast sounds good...