It’s late January, my birthday, and a warm day in Oklahoma. It’s the kind of day that reminds me of early fall in Michigan, where I grew up, or maybe like late spring there, when going outside stops feeling like Mother Nature dumped a gray 7-11 slushy on the landscape.
Winter in Oklahoma this year brought a lice outbreak, just in time for Christmas!
The treatments went on for weeks. They *actually overlapped with* Eli’s five day hospital stay. Yeah, never mentioned that here before. I tragi-comically combed my hair in search of nits amid beeping machines at the hospital at night. In the mean time, two chemical treatments, an olive oil smothering, constant combing and a bizarre ritual that entailed dumping Cetaphil on our heads and then singeing it off with a hair dryer – it started smoking! – got rid of the pests. #gross. #yay. #butgross.
At least Eli avoided the outbreak!
Weeks after these late-December/early January ordeals, footloose and lice-free, I plunked down an expensive race fee for a half marathon and set my sights on burning off stress and baked goods that got me through it.
I’m another year older, but frack it, here we go with a new beginning.
1 kilometer in a sharp pain in my left foot stopped me in my tracks.
Is this a fluke? Nah, it wasn’t. I couldn’t walk without stabbing pain.
Cursing the universe for bestowing upon me this irritating first world problem, I limped back to my gym starting point and went about my day.
WTF did I just do to my foot?