One day I was moving 30 gallons of water. Because I can't complete any task without nabbing a few self-inflicted injuries, I caught my ankle under the cart. I went to the ER and the 7 people who helped me were just lovely. I did everything they said.
Three weeks later, my foot was giving me a bit of trouble. I had been completely ignoring it and traversing Chicago daily, going to shows, and running to catch trains, so I could understand why it was testy. I guilted the foot doctor receptionist into squeezing me into the Friday schedule.
The foot doctor was a horrible human being. I didn't trust him. So I am disinclined to believe that I am as perambulatorily fucked as he says. But now I find myself signed up for physical therapy, lying on the couch and watching my life wither away as "Little Women"'s melodrama infects my brain. As I close my eyes during the umpteenth moment of soaring soundtrack horn solos, Winona Ryder narrating with doelike tears filling her eyes, I remember the ER doctor chuckling and saying "Achilles tendonitis is the WORST that could happen... but it won't. It won't!"
There's nothing more eloquent than a sad-faced emoticon.
:(
I'll leave you with a little domestic abuse-tinged Grizzly Bear to round out the sufferin' mood.
Grizzly Bear - He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)
Um. Also, I just found the best blog post in the world about little women:
"LITTLE WOMEN
Why does Jo get angry very often?
I think Jo get angry is because Amy burnld her book. Jo very like her book. But Amy burndle her book so Jo get angry."
Indeed.
