Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.
I goofed. I’ve sprained my ankle pretty darn bad, enough I had to call mum to come help. Given how I’ll often shrug off injury and say ‘eh it’ll be fine’, me making that call gives you an idea how bad it is. Irony is I was looking at my Oreacle journal earlier today, and in that the small piece I wrote on October 7th, 2018 – finally got round to checking the date – about how I wrote through a migraine, so can write through anything. Well, I can add nearly fractured ankle to the list of things I’ve written through, so, woo?
No rowing for a while though. That sucks, as I had a great chain going there. 68 straight days, and now no chance. I would go sit on it and rock back and forth and be happy to count that, but man, I can’t stand up right now, the slightest movement sends waves of NOPE all up my leg. I would rather break the chain than break my, well, yeah. Well, thousand words, blog, journal and edit a whole chapter whilst feeling like someone sledgehammered my foot ain’t half bad, I will focus on the positives.
But seriously come on, it would have been day 69. Fate is cruel.