Broken ankles and flaming cats...bring on the Christmas holidays!

Quick post, a) because I feel like I owe this blog (and any sucker still reading it) a post, b) because I'm not feeling so hot right now and therefore don't feel like typing for any significant length of time.

Okay, so I broke my freaking ankle. This is what happens when you go out, get drunk, decide you need chips, then, after purchasing said chips, decide that walking home is quicker than bussing. Note, this is never the case, even when I am sober. Then, (continuing with my evening of brilliant deductive logic) I decided that the backroads were quicker than Douglas. This, of course, led to my getting lost. This then led to my getting frustrated and picking up the pace.

Now, Victoria, for those not in the know, has, until recently, been enjoying some unseasonably cold weather. We got a nice big snowfall, which then proceded to melt and freeze for about a week. By the time I was starting off on my Friday night escapades, all the sidewalks were liberally coated with a thick layer of solid ice.

So, of course, the inevitable happened. I fell. It was epic. One minute I was upright, striding along angrily, wanting only to be at home with my cat and a newly opened bag of chips, the next I was flat on my back, with my left ankle screaming in pain. I tried to get up. It didn't work, my ankle wouldn't hold me. I tried again. No luck. I lay on my back for a bit, tears streaming down my face, whimpering in panic at the thought of spending the entire night alone on the ice, and determined to try one more time. This time it worked.

How I got home is a blur. Some nice people having a staff party nearby called me a cab, fed me some coke and talked me through my panic a bit. Once I managed to limp into my room Linz and the Jon and then finally my father got to hear my story, in person or over the phone, liberally sprinkled with heaving sobs. Eventually, icepack clutched to my ankle, I fell asleep.

The next morning my mother came to pick me up. I was hoping that it was just a sprain (and trying to ignore the ominous grinding sensation in my foot every time I tried to put a shoe on it). No luck. Nice fracture of the distal fibula, needed a plate and a screw to hold in place (hello full anesthetic!), and now crutches and non weight bearing for 6wks. Wow, this sucks.

All right, my stomach hasn't recovered from the anesthetic yet so I'm not feeling great right now (though my leg feels much better). So I'll wrap this up. Oh yes, and Moe set himself on fire. I'll have to delve into the sordid details of that story later. No worries, he's fine except for an odd looking hair style.