Scene: London, The Past.
So usually I go to Benediktbeuern in mid-September. Well, two years in a row – that counts as usual, right? And I couldn’t go last year, because of the recently-moved freaked-out-family thing. And then I couldn’t go this year because that very weekend was the one selected for our neighborhood block-party, and I really do want to try to get to know the neighbors this time. So but not going to Benediktbeuern meant I could go to London in early September with the Dutch Knitters, which are basially Carla and Hilly doing all the work, and the rest of us showing up most Tuesdays for Stitch-n-Bitch. So we went – I rode the Eurostar! – and mostly sat at a table and handed out Stroopwaffels (toffee-waffles) and Muntjes (mints) and answered questions and it was fun. And I also saw Nigel, so all in all a pretty good weekend, right up until the last bit.
The next-to-last bit was dinner in Chinatown with like eight people, and at one point a herd of Hare Krishnas scampered past, chanting and drumming and accordioning (… I didn’t know they did accordions…) which wouldn’t have been all that remarkable except that maybe ten minutes later a blonde woman in a sari came pelting up to us and asked, “Did you see a large group of people pass by, chanting?” and then raced off after them when we answered in the affirmative. Hm.
And then the others headed back to their hotel and Nigel and my friend Brent and I headed toward Piccadilly Circus and it was crowded with Saturday-night people, and I was thinking those girls in their 6-inch heels had better be careful when VWOOP – me and my sensible Chuck Taylors went ass-over-teakettle into an unexpected hole in the sidewalk.
Dang, that hurt.
So, Dutch medical care! Have you seen Madagascar 2? The bit where if a giraffe gets sick he goes to sit in a hole and wait for death? Basically they sent me home to wait for it to get better. Told me to “take it easy.” Excuse me, but did these people not have mothers?
Well I worked from home for two days. Iced it. Taped it. Elevated it. Bitched a lot. Figured that was enough. And it got better for about a week, but then it stopped getting… betterer… and has remained twingy and annoying ever since. Yesterday I went to the doctor for something else, and said incidentally, why the HELL is my ankle still puffy and hurty, and she said I need to be patient, it hasn’t even been six weeks yet. She says these things take time. DrBob agrees. I am vastly annoyed by this.
Song du jour of the day: Heavy Like Sunday, by Leona Naess