So I decided to mix up my blog a little bit, some current events tossed in with little personal anecdotes and what goes on in my day.
Today, well... Today was a very boring day, actually. I guess today is not the day to begin doing this, but hey, now is always the best time, anyway.
I woke up at 7:30, to be at work for 8:30. Luckily enough, I only live (literally) a block from work, so the snooze button on the alarm is my greatest friend in the morning. I snoozed. And snoozed. And snoozed until I saw that it was 8:02.
8:02 AM = No AM shower.
I crawl, half-heartedly, out of bed and drag myself into the bathroom to salvage a semi-acceptable appearance for work. To be quite honest, I'm not caring entirely too much lately, as I'm moving to a much better, happier area and I've only got eight more weeks left at my current job until I begin something new. I do the normal morning routine: wash the face, brush the teeth, attack my Jew-fro with a comb, brush, water, hairdryer, flat-iron and some dynamite. The norm.
I get to work ten minutes early (a record for me) and just. know. that today is going to be one of those ass-dragging, 'everyone's going to irritate me in one way or another' type days.
I kill as much time as I can while in the office. Kind of uneventful.
Around 10 AM, I start popping antibiotics.
Oh, yeah, good story.
I insisted I broke my toe two months ago and no one believed me. I'm a little bit of a drama queen, so I always make a bit more of a deal of things than should be, but hey, I'm a woman and I can get away with these things.
I digress. After "breaking" my toe, weeks and weeks go by and my toe is actually worsening, not getting better. It's my little toe on my left foot, which is, of course, a tender area, even by the low standards of my threshold of pain spectrum. Toe gets redder. Purple-r. Bigger. And bigger yet.
So, finally, this past weekend, I decide to make a move and call my physician. I have to admit, despite the fact that I'm a whiner and complainer when it comes to injuries, minor or not, I'm not a big doctor-goer.
I go to the doctor (after waiting for an hour and a half, in which I actually, seriously contemplated just going home and making a go of dealing with the pain and swelling and grossness) and he takes a look at it and decides he wants to do an x-ray. I take a limp down to the radiology department in the building and they microwave my toe. I limp back to the examination room and wait for this doctor to come back. I wait another half hour. By this time, I'm so disgusted that I'm considering leaving. Again. I start muttering insults and curses under my breath, in half-hopes that someone will hear me and ask what my problem is, or if they can help me or get someone for me. To no avail, I might add.
The doctor finally decides to show back up and let me know that my toe was, indeed, broken at one point in the past few weeks and it was now infected (ew, gross, an infected toe) because of the unnatural way it healed. Outwardly, bone-wise, it doesn't appear to be deformed. But I guess you never can really tell with tiny digits. And I do have little toes.
So, regardless. They put me on antibiotics (high-dose, take them four times a day antibiotics) and here I am today, at work, late, un-showered, gross and irritated just on the sheer basis of being here.