Hiatus Week 1 or Stupid Foot

Some of you may remember that I used to go barefoot all the time. My feet were allowed to frolic freely through the lush green fields of life. They were unconstrained by shoe's evil choke hold. They were happy. They loved their freedom.

Enter the villain.

Driven crazy by years of Lucky Charms and Pixie Stix abuse my pancreas saw their happiness and hated them for it. It devised an evil plan to end their freedom. Slowly but surely it converted nerves to its cause; those it couldn't convince it killed. When my nefarious pancreas finally had enough nerves on its side it struck. It gave my feet neuropathy.

My feet never saw it coming. They rallied and tried to fight back, but their constant attempts to trip the pancreas out of the body just made my chin and nose really mad. In the end they were forced to concede defeat. Totally unintentional pun. I swear. Mourning the loss of  the tickle of soft grass on their soles or the cool squishiness of mud oozing through their toes, they lay limp and resolved to die.

Since I am allergic to having parts of my body amputated I resolved to do what I could to save their lives. Unfortunately that means  I have been forced to keep them imprisoned in tiny cages of leather and rubber.  They hate it. And because they no longer have to fortify themselves against concrete and rocks they have become weak, thin skinned, whiny babies. Which is why my right foot got a blister.

For a normal foot a blister is not that big of a deal. Put a Band-aid on it and move on. But for my foot it is the end of the world.

My foot: "Aghh! A Blister! Let's fall off his leg before he makes us run more. "
Me: "You'll be okay. I'll rub some anti friction stuff on you -- no worries."
My foot: "Ohhh-kay, I guess."
A day later
My foot: "Aagh! It's worse! You are trying to kill us! We need to stop running!"
Me: "Calm down. We can keep running."
My foot: "Take me to a doctor NOW!"
Me: "Okay, okay."

At the Podiatrist.
Doctor: "Are you trying to kill your foot?"
My foot: "Yes, he is! And ... and he keeps us locked up in his smelly shoes all the time -- arrest him! "
Doctor: "You need to stop running."
My foot: "See? We told you so … wait, what is she doing with that knife?"
The doctor carves away half of my foot.
Doctor: "There, that should heal better now."
My foot: Sniff sniff "You quack! Who gave you your degree? Hannibal Lecter?"

So, my doctor has told me to stop running until my foot is fully healed. Hopefully it will be soon. Regardless of the state of my foot you can still donate money so that people can have access to clean water.