So I broke my ankle a couple of weeks ago.

Scratch that. I destroyed my ankle. I lit it on fire and burned it down. I tore that baby up. From what I understand, the entire joint is currently being held together by a steel plate and a handful of screws. Because of the severity of the injury and the fragility of the bones involved, I can’t put any weight on my left leg for three months which…. yeah, kinda stinks. I mean, I don’t mind having a couple of extra weeks off but this is a little much especially since I’m going to be more or less stuck inside. The doctor did say I was free to leave the house once I was comfortable on the crutches but our parking lot is such a mess – that’s how I got into this situation in the first place – that I’m kind of nervous about venturing out.

So what am I going to do for the next 100 days or so? Heck if I know! But I’ll be here blogging about every boring minute, that’s for sure. It’s all in the name of killing time.

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