Prisoner in my own home!

 Miss, please put your foot up

I'm a prisoner in my own home! I hate being stuck in the house.  I know I'm whining. I'm over here playing the world's smallest violin for myself. I hate whining but I can't help it.

It's a beautiful day in Rio de Janeiro and my foot hurts and I can't walk that far.  My husband and oldest will be going to pick up vovô and vovó up at the airport.  I would, ideally, take my youngest out to the park but chasing after a 17 month old sounds like a no no right now. 

I need to get a cane. I think it'll make this week a lot easier if I can use one around the house. I'm gimping around all wrong and making the side of my bad foot and my hip hurt.  Hip you ask? I have a bad hip from my running days. I'm an 80 year old in an almost 30 yr old's body. Actually, it'd be a 30 year old in an almost 80 year old body that has had some work done.

I'm just hoping this toe heals straight. I'd hate to be more uncomfortable in heels than I already am. Not that I get to wear heels very often.  2 kids and cobblestone streets do not make my days very heel friendly.  Plus I have the bunion situation.  The beautiful knobs on the site of my feet not only pinch in heels but make little circles of wear and tear right over the site of said bunions.  It's like a little target saying, Hi world I'm here.

Holy crap, look at what my cabin fever has brought me to do. I'm personifying my bunions. Wait a second, what am I saying?  I would do that normally.  Actually, normally I'd have come up with something cleverer.

If I start writing about hair ribbons and floor polish, someone please come and put me out of my misery!

On a good note, I have a friend's birthday party tonight so I'll literally get some wine with my whine! Something tells me I'll stop whining after some wine and, hopefully, not hurt myself further!