I Need A Miracle

No, not our finances. Not even God, who has cattle on a thousand hills, can help us with that. Today, while Jon was out trying to find a fan for a unit he was fixing (unsuccessfully I might add), I was in the office alone. I was away from my desk when the phone started to ring. Being the good secretary/receptionist/bookkeeper/person who makes the coffee that I am, I run to my desk to answer the phone. Big mistake. I am wearing these slip-on type shoes that The Other Younger Half found for 80% off. They are slip-on shoes, but hey have the soles (and souls I suppose) of clogs, big fat things about an inch and a half thick. I keep them at work to wear, so when I ride my bike, I have something to put on my feet at the office. My bike shoes don't cut it for all day wear. These cloggy things make me look taller, which is nice if I'm trying to intimidate Jon. Anyway, I'm sprinting across the lab to answer this phone call, "Big sale," I'm thinking, when all of a sudden my left foot falls improperly. Not being accustomed to running in these imposing clog type shoes, my foot lands sideways and boom, I'm on the ground, cursing. Cursing because this felt like more than just a simple turning of the ankle, although it's hard to tell in those initial moments after something like this. Could I just "walk it off" or was it going to be an ordeal like the sprained ankle I had working at FedEx when I was out from work for two weeks? Turns out it is somewhere in between. I'm not on crutches like I was 5 years ago, but I'm not walking normally either. The Other Younger Half had to come and pick me up from work, since I wasn't able to bike home. This is what is so aggravating: this week is national bike to work week and I was going to take the SS Death Star to work 4 out of the 5 days. Friday there is a wing-ding of sorts in downtown Minneapolis. Bike commuters are all supposed to meet up on designated routes throughout the city and gather at the Hennepin County Government Center for a little rally/breakfast/meet-your-fellow-bike-commuter thingy. I really want to go. I'm hoping that rest, ice and ibuprofin will get me to the point of being able to ride on Friday. We'll see. Oh, and that phone call I ran to answer like a good little employee? Wrong number.