As I got in my car to drive home tonight (on the dorky donut spare again, by the way, as my day took a sudden and unfortunate turn back into shitdom), I slammed my foot in the car door. Owie.
By the time I got home, it was swollen, purple and full-on HOLY LIVING HELL THAT FUCKING HURTS.
Could I find an ace bandage? A brace? Some measly medical tape? No. Did we have a soft ice pack? Or even any ice cubes? No.
So I wrapped my foot in the last paper towel on the roll and stuck it in a plastic wine chiller sleeve.
Update: Jason made ice. And vodka cocktails. And determined that it is probably a bruised tendon. Jebus god. The pain.
Update Update: Nope. Probably a fracture. Freak show foot: Put ice on it, watch it get WORSE! Yay! X-rays on the agenda tomorrow methinks.
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD THE PAIN. THE PAIN!
Update Update Update: 12:10 AM. GOING TO THE HOSPITAL NOW BITCHES. HOLY FUCK. VICODIN! PLEASE!