Evening Update

So along about 2:30, my left foot starts to look like a cantaloupe with toes growing out of it, and I decide I better get to Saint's E.R. and get some antibiotics.

I take a quick shower, put on some presentable clothes, and head out the door.

And who should come sauntering out from under my minivan but Mr. Rip-My-Goddam-Foot-Off-Why-Don't-You, and he's like "Hey, what's up, man?"

"I'll tell you what's up, mother******! I'm on my way to the ****in' emergency room because my foot's turning into a pumpkin! Now get the **** out of my way!"

"Sorry, man. Guess I was in a state. Well, good luck at the E.R. Mind if I take a nap on your porch while you're gone?"

"What?! You better not be there when I get back, or I'll have you declawed at the elbow and they'll be calling you 'Stumpy' instead of 'Butthead.'"

"Yeah, OK. I'm real worried. You better get out of here before your foot explodes."









The preceding was a dramatization of actual events.

I am now on an antibiotic and my foot is so sore I can barely walk. I'm limping badly. It got visibly worse during the time I was in the E.R. I hope I see some improvement by morning.