My Middle Name is Danger. Or Klutz. Pick One.

Today I have issues.

I know, I always have issues, but today I really. Have. Issues.

Last night while feeding horses, I climbed over the fence to check on the water in the girls' pen. When I climbed back over the fence, I slipped and came tumbling down, twisting my ankle in the process.

Seven years of dance lessons, my friends. SEVEN YEARS.

I got up, brushed myself off and limped off to finish chores. By the time I went inside my ankle was almost back to normal. Good, I thought. I'm glad I didn't really hurt myself.

Fast forward to this morning. Long story short, I did hurt myself.

It's not really that bad. I would barely call it a sprain, but it's noticably swollen and it hurts all the time. It slowed me down a lot more than I would have thought this morning. On top of that my sciatic nerve must have been damaged when I hurt my back because there is a perpetual slight pull between my ankle and heel on the outside of my right foot. I can usually ignore it pretty well, but since it's also my right ankle that is hurt and swollen, it's now a double-whammy of pain and annoyance.

To top it all off, I had the morning of a thousand annoyances. You know the morning. There's not really anything that is all that terribly wrong, but no matter what you do, every task is thwarted in some way. Hyperbole and a Half explains it really well. For my morning, it was that Betty had forgotten our treaty that she'd quit being skitzo and I promised not to eat her, so taking her blanket off (what should have been a simple task) took a good half-hour, then (despite renting a giant magnet and going over the area with a fine-toothed comb before the horses were even put in the area), I managed to find two handfuls of nails in one area of their pen, then I didn't realize until I got on the other side of the farm that the hay I had gotten for the boys was dusty with mold (bad bale), so I had to go back, on my bad ankle, and get them some better flakes, then I went inside to find Milton kitty had knocked over my paper shredder and dispersed its contents all over the living room floor, then when I went to take a shower the bathtub was plugged up (which is becoming an ongoing issue because Milton jumps right from the litter box, which is filled with clumping litter, into the bathtub because it's there and he's obsessed with water), and then when I went to grab my phone from the nightstand although it was plugged in all night it hadn't charged at all. *deep breath*

I'm really fighting the urge to just go back home and go to bed. My nice warm, cozy bed, where everything is soft so it's virtually impossible to further injure myself.

I'm not sure what is keeping me going at this point: Hope that the day will improve? Responsiblity? Caffeine?

Probably a little bit of all three.