Scarlett is going to have a food blog someday because every time I ask her what I should write about she says, “Cookies. A box of candy. Candy. I love candy.”
Also, I’m pretty sure I broke my foot. Maybe not literally, but functionally, it’s broken. And purple. It was green, now it’s purplish-blue. It looks dead. It’s probably sprained, but I didn’t really want to go to the ER because they were just going to tell me it’s sprained and then charge me to have told me something I already knew. Brian assures me that they wouldn’t have given me painkillers, which is the only reason I would have gone. You have to have dreams.
Oh, how did I do this? I missed the bottom step of our basement stairs while carrying two baskets of laundry in the dark at 1:00 AM. The floor is concrete and absorbed none of the impact — just gave me back every, single ounce of my full body weight, as evidenced by my mangled foot. Yes, I did this to myself. I have been limping around like an oldy lady for a week now, and Brian has renamed me Gimp. At least it’s hot hate, you know?
Did you notice it’s December? I managed to get the Christmas card ordered, so I’ve got that going for me.