Tales from the Cripp(le)

So there I was...walking across the street to meet my husband for the evening commute home when WHAM!, I sprain my ankle. Just like that, with no warning, I'm turned into a hobbling mess. All because I was wearing my Danskos. These are great shoes, but they are certainly NOT for those of weak ankle (think of it as wearing narrow mini-platforms that tend to topple at the very hint of an uneven surface).

And I should know, because I have been spraining my ankle like it was an Olympic sport since I was a wee lass. I kid you not - we're talking too many to count and I don't know how many trips to the emergency room. You should see my closet; it's a veritable wasteland of ankle-healing paraphernalia: crutches, air casts, Ace bandages, cold compresses, pain meds, you name it I've got it.

For those who know me, this latest injury should come at really NO surprise. Ah, but therein lies the rub. You see, I've always sprained my right ankle and last night the unthinkable happened. I sprained my LEFT ankle - the one ankle I've been able to count on all these years to bear the weight so Righty McSprainerton could get better. I guess ol' Lefty had finally had enough and decided to teach me a lesson. Well played, Lefty, well played...