the birding frock

there’s nothing i like more than sitting on the couch, full of shrimp biryani and saag paneer, forlornly staring down at my ankle, which earlier this evening rolled with an emphatic pop and caused such an amazing amount of pain, i thought i might throw up. yes, right there on the floor, in my sweatpants and trainers.  what i do not like, is suddenly very apparent. although i am inherently lazy, i am obnoxiously stubborn, and do not listen. asking someone for help, even asking my husband for help is difficult for me. it’s a bit sad, really. i’m a pain in the ass to take care of because i’m too proud to admit that i’m hurting, or can’t do something on my own.

i actually apologized to my trainer for not being able to have the entire hour session, because, well, i maybe-sprained my bloody ankle.

so, i’ll sit here on the sofa for a bit longer, thinking that i could just walk right on over to the dryer and empty it out, take the clothes upstairs and fold it. and i could do all of this, i could also just take a blunt knife and start hacking away at my leg - the outcome would probably be more or less the same. help. why can’t i ask for help?

oh? also? we just bought a puppy! no, my ankle and the puppy have nothing to do with one another, i’m just not in the mood for a segue.