Less Than The Best Day

So, Mr. Sweetie of off on a business trip to the end of the week. His flight Tuesday morning before noon. And not an entire hour later, I managed to do the most clod-like thing I've done in ages. Hours anyway. Yup. I twisted my ankle.

I was doing some Christmas shopping. And I walked out of a store, and there was a step there. But I didn't see it. And so my foot went down...and down...and down (it was a big step). And this was no delicate little thing, oh no. I twisted the hell out of that ankle. A big, nasty turn that hurt so much that I nearly landed on the ground, curled up in a little ball of pain. Because of course, not only did I turn my ankle, but as a result I also lost my balance, and couldn't get it back, because of the not being able to stand on the foot with the twisted ankle! Go me!

I managed to stumble crazily to the curb, where I grabbed hold of a lightpost. Yes! I know! I thought that was just a cliche too! But it was really quite sturdy, and I stood there, hand on the post, standing on one foot, waiting for that first pain rush to pass.

So, what was the best part? Was it that I did it on the busiest street corner in town? Was it that I did it a lunch hour in sight of four restaurants with full story-high windows? Was it that my car was two blocks away? Was it trying to drive with a swollen and painful ankle?

Sure, that was all bad, but the part that marked me as a total dunce? Was when I got home, got my shoes off and my feet up, and discovered that my socks didn't even match.

Arrrgh! What a clod! See--they are both basically oatmeal colored, with little pictures of dogs running up the sides. While wearing shoes and jeans, they would pass as a pair. But they are clearly NOT an actual pair of socks. Even though I have another pair just like them in my dresser. Gah!