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The author's foot, wrapped and swollen. Aren't you glad that you have a picture of that to look at?

My foot is up on the ottoman.  It is wrapped in a tensor bandage to try to reduce the swelling.  The dull, throbbing pain is oscillating between the outside half of my instep and my calf, which I find odd, since I don’t know of any direct connection between those two parts of my body.  It’s like I pulled the one nano-thin fibre that directly links my astragalus to my knee.


I wouldn’t mind the injury (and the inconvenience of restricted movement) if I didn’t have a day filled with reasons to hurry.  The highway was shut down by what I can only assume was a pants-wettingly stupid moron that forgot how to drive in rain, so I had to find my way to work through a combination of guesswork, deductive reasoning, and astronomy.  That left me with about ten minutes to get ready for the day instead of my usual forty-five.

Being late, I had to park in one of the spots that floods when it rains.  This has happened before (I live the furthest away and am most likely to be late if traffic is slowed down by abovementioned morons), but at those times I was able-bodied enough to clamber out the back window so I could leap the small lakes.  Today I could barely put weight on my left leg.  My acrobatics were restricted to bravely stomping into the puddle and trying to look like I didn’t notice the water shooting up my pant leg.

Now running even more late, I found myself rushing in the way that Olympic speed-walkers rush (read: awkwardly), but unlike speed-walkers, this kept happening every fifteen feet:

Primary Teacher: Oh my goodness!  What happened?

Me: It’s just a sprained ankle.  Nothing too bad.

Primary Teacher: Oh dear!  How did you do that?

Me: I go tossed during sparring and I came down funny on my ankle.  Then the other guy came down on it too.  I don’t think it’s broken, though.

Primary Teacher: Sparring?

Me: Yeah, I have my black belt.  I do kickboxing and submission grappling a few times a week.

Primary Teacher: Ooh!  Is that like Karate?

Me: (Pause)  Sure.  It’s like that.  Sorry, I have to get to class.  The bell is about to go.

Other Primary Teacher Emerging From Classroom: Oh dear!  Why are you limping?

Me: I… you know what?  I’ll just send out a memo later.