My Left Foot…


Maskless, feckless people will literally be the death of me.

Yesterday, I was wrapping up a 7am hike.

The fog enveloped the entire town and the humidity raged as if we were in NYC in August.

A twenty-something was sprawled across the sidewalk impeding our journey home.

We took to the street, navigating a wide berth to avoid the unmasked one.

Obviously, the hot, sweaty hike made me less coordinated and blinded by rage that yet another selfish subhuman had shed their mask and concern for others, I took a flying leap catching my left foot in a pothole and down I went.

Now I find myself on the couch watching hours of bad news with my foot propped up and a continuous parade of ice packs caressing my swollen left foot.

If I cannot hike or spin then shoot me because there is nothing left to occupy the long days.

My afternoon delight was also canceled…Isaias washed out the NY Yankees game.

Struck out again.

I do not have the patience to read and have already spent a small fortune on my Nook and overrated bestselling drivel.

Despite my studies, I still speak broken french and now I cannot stand long enough to create in the kitchen…tried a chair, but the counters are too high.

My world is swollen with despair.

Put on Adele…it’s time for a pity party!🍷🍸🍹🍾

photo:Clker.com

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