Sunday, January 12, 2014

There is Trouble In the Gypsy Village*

I took the weekend off.  I had no choice; had I ignored the balloon that my left ankle had become by Friday night, I might have severely injured and possibly incapacitated myself, again.  Seeing as I walk the .8 miles between me and work, and I really and truly can't take time off just now, this is just not an option.

So I joined the 61% of America and binged on not just "QI" (no spoilers, I'm only at Series 9, "I"), "Doctor Who" that I have seen (Season 1, all of "#9's" time),  but also my most recent guilty pleasure, worse than teenaged vampires in Virginia, so please keep this between you and me..."Family Guy" (season 8.  Yes it's horrid, like a train wreck though, I just can't stop watching.) while I kept my leg elevated and furiously knit away on one of two baby hats I needed to have done weeks ago.

I thought I was all better by late this afternoon, as the swelling was gone.  Not that that really means anything and I should know better but la la la, as it doesn't hurt (and it doesn't, this is what really makes this stink) it must be okay, right?  My ankle is not sprained, you see, nor strained.  Not even "bent funny."  The horrible swelling is how my posterior tibial tendonitis lets me know I've been bad.  Or walked too hard, or far, or something; some day I will know that triggers it.  The pain is on the tendon itself, way above the swelling on the inside/back of my shin.  Once triggered it is tender to the touch.  Very very tender.  Accidentally-brush-against-it-with-your-other-foot-while-you-are-sleeping-and-shock-yourself-awake, tender.  Sleeping the last few days?  A bit difficult.  Did I mention this all just sucks?

Anyhow, feeling a bit stir crazy, and getting low on milk, I went off to the store.  By the time I got back...yeah, you guessed it, my sock was threatening to cut off the circulation in my toes.


I know, I know,  I'm too much in a whiney/feel sorry for me mood.  I can't help it.  This was a rough week for me.

It started with jury duty.  I do feel awesome about fulfilling my civic duty.  I do, really, no sarcasm.  I really wish there was less sit-around-and-wait time.  But would it be government if there wasn't?  As this was the first jury duty of 2014, and they had a full docket (thank you "Night Court"), we had to be there the full two days required by the state of Washington to see if we'd be chosen for a jury.  Two very long whole days.  Two very long days where knitting needles (but any kind of crochet hook) were NOT ALLOWED.  Two very long whole days that ended with me going in to work afterwords so that I wouldn't fall too far behind.

I didn't get chosen for a jury.  I'm still torn about whether or not this was good thing.  I kinda wanted to see what it was all about from start to finish, but having gotten to the voir dire portion of the selection (I was one of 50 in my group), I realized that I couldn't be a part of the trial I'd been picked for pretty early on.  My oddball life experiences had me thinking too much...and a bit prejudiced against the system.  Oh, hi, is my Santa Cruz showing?  Working at a global non-profit whose mission is to make the world a better place does not help.  What about the horribleness of this world put the man who was on trial in these straits?  Why did he have no other options?  This is what I wanted answered before I used the logical side of my brain to take in all the information and decide if the State had proven their case.

But we were all excused before we got to this moment.  The accused (innocent until proven guilty), changed his plea.  So no closure.  Just lots of anxiety and questions, and turmoil.  And I was behind on work to boot.  So I spent the next three days working way too many hours and making my head and tummy and shoulders ache.  Because, talent!

By Friday I was exhausted, dehydrated, sore, irritated, and yeah, the ankle thing.  So swollen that walking up the hill home was difficult.  Okay, it doesn't hurt, but it does impede movement.  I should have been paying more attention as to why it was so hard to walk, even down the hall.  See, no excuse.  Except maybe the Cleopatra Syndrome.  You know, heh heh, living on denial?  (The Nile? Hee!  It's late, shoot me.)

And as I was just reminded it is a "school night,"  I need to try to get some sleep.  Ice packs, advil, and traumeel, all ready for me to take to work tomorrow.  Um, yey?

*According to "QI," this is what the direct translation of the Greek phrase they use for "I don't care." This is why you have to watch QI.  Well, and Stephen Fry.  And Alan Davies. And all the awesome comic and science-y guests (Brian Cox!) It's all on youtube.  Go look.