Sunday Edition (the non video version): my left foot

Sorry all, no video today.

My laptop is far too old to actually have a camera in it, so I rely on setting up a crappy webcam and microphone and, really, I’m not in the mood to:

  1. locate the webcam
  2. locate the microphone
  3. untangle each of the aforementioned from the million other cables of unknown use
  4. get freaked out why I have all these cable that I (apparently) have no use for
  5. try to determine the function of at least one cable, based on the ends and various cryptic markings
  6. remember that I was planning to do a video
  7. brush my hair (you’re welcome)
  8. realize my laptop battery is almost dead
  9. locate the power bar
  10. untangle it from the million other cables

You get the idea.

Besides, this way, I’m also saving you from actual video of my left foot.

Again, you’re welcome.

Ah, yes.  My left foot.  New source of all foot troubles.

Generally speaking, when it comes to my chronic complaints, my right side is to blame:  right hip, right shoulder, right hand.  All various repetitive occupational hazards and fall out from the bearing of one child.  But, oh-so recently, it’s been my left foot that has started causing me worry.

Seems it was feeling neglected and decided to start growing a bunion.


But, wait!  There’s more.  An odd-shaped bone sticking out of the side of my foot that disrupts my footwear wasn’t enough!  The other day, I found a hair.  On my big toe.  A hair that was trying to make it into the Guinness Book of World Records.

Bad enough that I pay people money to rip overzealous hair out of the follicles of my face – since I reached a Certain Age, even my blessed fair complexion can’t save me – I’m not about to start offering my feet up for the same treatment.  Massage, reflexology, pedicure?  Sure.  Waxing?  No.  On principle alone.

And my left foot now has its wish.  It’s getting attention.  I’m massaging the cranky joint, seriously considering a reflexology course this fall and keeping the tweezers handy.

2 out of 3 good attentions ain’t bad.

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