Just call me Gimpy.

So we're a few days into the official start of summer, and I'm already on crutches. I almost don't even want to tell you how I did it, because it is so absurdly stupid.

A bit of background, first. Some of my joints are super-flexible. I'm not sure I could legitimately be described as double-jointed, but they bend in odd ways sometimes. Last year, on my birthday, I managed to twist my ankle walking on an even surface, in flats. Granted, I had drunk my weight in shots, but still. I was sitting in the Celtic Hearth with my foot up on the other chair, grumping about how it huuuuurt and it was swoooollen and wheeeere were my ONION RINGS.

So a little over a year later, I'm in my apartment. It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, and I'm in a great mood. So good a mood, I decide to listen to the song on my profile. So good a mood, I decide to dance a little bit.

See, the snapping sound coming from that same ankle and my immediate collapse to the floor like an angry ton of bricks soured my mood just the tiniest bit, not to mention the delicious irony of being so lame I injured myself bopping about to a song called "Because I'm Awesome".

To the ER I went, upon the discovery that the ankle did not bear pressure as well as I'd have liked (which is to say "at all"). I waited two hours to see the doctor for thirty seconds, in which he did not even touch my foot. "Yep, snapped ligament. Take these crutches, keep off it, and you'll probably need physio."

And now, here I am. Jamie is taking pretty good care of me, with ice on the ankle and pillows and whatnot. Also, he broke out the good shit and bought Ben & Jerry's.

In summation, I am an idiot with flexible joints, a swollen foot, and a slightly reduced love of The Dollyrots.