I have always had a problem in not watching where I'm walking; I tend to gawk at most everything else instead. I suppose I'm afraid I'll miss something going on around me, or I could just be people-watching. Anyway, paying close attention to where my feet are seems entirely too boring. However, a rudimentary awareness of the ground upon which I'm walking is much more likely to help me avoid certain hazards. It was that lack of awareness that caused me to step in a hole while walking a couple of days ago. The hole was mostly obscured by grass, but I'm sure I would have seen it if I had been looking. I felt the jolt immediately and began to stumble, but I caught myself before my careening developed into a full belly-flop, which would be so like me. After recovering my balance, I didn't notice the pain at first, but as the time went on, my right foot began to swell, and walking became painful. Finally, a trip to an urgent care facility here in Rockport for x-rays confirmed that I had a fracture at the base of the fifth metatarsal. It's really not a big deal, as it will only require a special boot to be worn to stabilize the foot as it heals. A larger issue is the loss of dignity as I hobble around, zombie-like, everywhere I go.
My New High-Fashion Boot!
This will cause us to extend our stay here for a while, until such time as I can safely drive Phannie again. There are worse places to be, however; the blizzard-ridden northeast comes to mind.
Thank you, Lord, for the wonderful life You've given me; please forgive me if I do not appreciate it enough each day.