It feels like it’s been a while since I’ve written. Probably because it HAS been a while.

Life has been a little crazy around here lately.

For one thing, the Hubs hurt his ankle. And you know what happens when a guy hurts himself. Momma Bear gains another kid. Well, maybe not another kid. But I definitely gained an extra teenager.

Anyway, it was a challenge.

Not that I’m the best patient in the world.

And I have plenty of experience.

When I was 16, I tested my flying skills… down a staircase… and it didn’t go so well. Do you remember the old Goofy cartoon where Goofy tried the ski jump? That’s about how my flight went.

Unlike Goofy, I’m not a cute cartoon dog, and I ended up in the walk-in clinic. I left on crutches for 2 weeks. I only sprained my ankle, but I was also 16. And of course, it was my RIGHT ankle. I kind of needed that to get my driver’s license.

It wasn’t awesome. And, of course, it was the ‘90s, and I wasn’t an athlete. There was no physical therapy or sports medicine involved, so my ankle probably healed all wonky, and now my ankle is especially susceptible to sprains and getting twisted. I hurt it all the time doing all kinds of stupid things, from chasing my idiot cat when he escapes at night to dancing in heels.

I’ve Only Hurt It Once On A Run.

I was 2 miles from my house, just on a practice run, and of course, I stepped wrong on nothing. I didn’t miss the sidewalk, or step on a crack, or even step on an unstable rock.

No, there wasn’t anything. My ankle just gave an evil laugh and decided we were done running. I felt it give way, and next thing I knew, I was sitting on the sidewalk with a grapefruit sized swollen thing where my ankle used to be, my shoe felt tight, and I knew I couldn’t put 2 miles worth of weight on that foot to get myself home.

I pulled out my phone, cursing up a storm, and called my husband for a ride home. I felt like an idiot, and I’m sure all the passersby who drove or ran past me thought I was having a psychotic break with all the crazed invectives coming out of my mouth.

The hubby was kind of enough to pick up his sailor-mouthed wife, dry her tears, and bring her home.

I was very thankful, but I was super cranky. I wanted to run, gosh darn it, and my stupid ankle ruined all my fun! I didn’t even DO anything to warrant this injury, and I didn’t want to be stuck on the couch with an ice pack on my foot! It wasn’t FAIR!

I continued a more R-rated version of this grumbling for another hour or two, until the Hubby got tired of it and left to play video games. He was kind enough to hand me the tv remote before he left though.

I’m being too mean to the Hubs, I guess.

Look at the fussbudget he puts up with when I get hurt. I should be kinder to him when he gets hurt too. I guess some people are just built with an inordinate amount of patience, and I’m not one of them.

(Sorry, Hubby Dubby. I still love you!)