I went to bed last night at 9:30 p.m. and all was well. I opened the window wide, turned on my fan so that the air would blow right at me on a very warm Seattle evening, cuddled my chihuahuas for a few minutes and then snuggled down in my pillow and drifted off to sleep. At 12:30 a.m. I woke and all was still well.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! At 5:00 a.m. I turned off my alarm and slid out of bed only to realize… HOLY COW! My right foot hurt like a ______________<insert graphic curse word here. I could hardly walk! I didn’t hurt my foot in any way shape or form and it is NOT LIKE I USE THE DARN THING SITTING IN MY OFFICE ALL DAY!!!
How did this happen? Here is my theory:
Yep, that’s right. Just like James Caan in Misery, I believe my foot was hobbled in the middle of the night. I can only assume my husband played the part of Kathy Bates. Years ago I suffered from plantar fasciitis but I think the odds are more in favor that I was hobbled.
I ended up limping around all day like Igor in Young Frankenstein looking for Abby Normal brains. Can’t wait for hubby to close his eyes tonight!
I am going to head to bed now…
Oh forgive me readers for prattling away and making everything all oogy. ; )