Look Ma! Two feet!!

My doctor's visit went well, my foot's healing, everthing's in the right place, and my doctor told me I could start trying to walk without the boot.

He gave me three rules:

1. No Running.
2. No Jumping.
3. No Falling. (Wah wah wah!)

When we left the office my mom and I decided to go to Target, 'cause why wouldn't we? She dropped me off at the door and I took my first non-booted steps. It felt like I was walking on a marshmallow, a magical, pain shooting marshmallow.

Yesterday I was able to walk without the boot through my first three class period, but by the end of 6th period I was hurting. Last night was also our AVID Awards Night, and I didn't want to wear jeans, so I put on a skirt, tights and flats and went with out the boot. It was probably too much, but I looked cute, so I felt like it was worth it.

I came home and put on the boot, frantically cleaning and packing for my trip to Utah this weekend for Mother's Day. Let me tell you a little something about me: When I get into a cleaning jag I become single minded. Let me tell you a little something else: Because I switched from shoe to boot midday I brought my left tennis shoe home in a Trader Joe's bag along with my water bottles and lunch stuff.

Sooooooooo to make a long story short, I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned until I had three bags of trash to take out. Although I was tired and my foot was hurting, I clomped down my stairs with three bags of trash narrowly avoiding rule #3.

On my way back from the dumpster, my neighbor congratulated me "Good job girl! Next you'll be running a marathon!" I felt all warm and fuzzy.

Later that night after I'd taken a bath and removed my boot I started to lay out my clothes for today and realized I couldn't find my left shoe. I searched everywhere, finally realizing that the Trader Joe's bag was no where to be found. "Where in the world did I put the...."

Oh.

Poopy.

I threw it away.

In the dumpster.

Downstairs.

So, because I was tired and couldn't stomach the idea of putting the boot back on I gimped my way downstairs with wet hair and no bra and jammies to pull my trash out of the dumpster to search for my missing shoe.


I got down there only to realize that the dumpster was nearly empty which meant that unless I had developed super human reach, broke rule #2, or both, I couldn't reach my garbage sacks.

I didn't feel warm and fuzzy. Instead I felt sweaty and prickly as I thought:

Oh

Poopy.

I have to go upstairs, get the step ladder, gimp back down here, and THEN pull trash out of the dumpster to find my shoe.

And that's what I did.

By the time I got back to my apartment with my shoe but without some of my dignity, my foot felt like it was on fire.

At least I didn't

Run
Jump, or
Fall.

THAT would have been bad.