Another day and another fucking foot injury. This time, it's on my working foot and it's called planta fasciitis, which is fucking agony. It's basically acute heel pain and it feels like somebody is stabbing the nerve that runs under your foot with a Stanley knife.
On the plus side, this should only be bad for a few weeks then it should slowly start to heal, so at least it shouldn't be too bad for too long. It just means I have to concentrate on walking. This is very strange because walking is a thing you take for granted.
I was bemoaning my feet injuries to the Other Woman and explaining how it meant I was a bit of a grumpy fucker at home. I also pointed out I don't want the Missus to be lumbered with 'a spastic who drags her down'.
It was at this point that the Other Woman pointed out: 'But she already is!'
And I was so nice about her not needing to lose weight. It's the last time that happens.
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