my other ride is a succubus!

Good news:  I am mobile!  As in, walking!  As in, HURRAH!

And being that I’ve spent the last three weeks cooped up in the house with nowhere to go and nothing to do (unless it involves the world of Azeroth), I spent most of the weekend jumping for joy on my not-entirely-healed-but-getting-there foot.

Saturday:  “We needa go here!  And there!  And here!  And over there!  And oh, look!  Shopping!  Movies!  Shopping!  Assembling furniture!  Rearranging furniture!  Cleaning!  There here there here there here WEEHEEEEEEEE.”

Sunday:  “Owwwwww, why does my foot hurt so much?”

Very surprised the S.O. didn’t shoot me full of tranquilizers, or better yet, break my other foot.  But no, being the wonderful S.O. that he is, he mostly just tried to keep up with me in his quiet, humble way.

In any case, it was a good weekend, full of movement.  And walking.  And did I mention the walking?  Grand.

In other exciting news, we’re getting a dishwasher.  One of those portable/convertible ones, on wheels.  This is particularly exciting because currently the only portable dishwasher in the house is yours truly (and I haven’t exactly been portable for the last few weeks!).  So, I’m being replaced by a GE Nautilus on Thursday, and we are purposely letting the dishes pile up in the sink until then, because what fun is a new dishwasher if you don’t have dirty dishes to wash?  That’s what I’m telling myself, anyhow.

Not Your Average Family Portrait
Mmm, Shiny Dead Things

And finally, it wouldn’t truly be an update unless I talked about WoW, would it?

My guild made its first attempt on Hakkar a week or so ago, and we killed him on the second try.  This was a particularly big accomplishment for us, since we’ve been running Zul’Gurub for over a year now – we can finally say we’ve cleared it.  Our recent success had us acting all, “C’mon Blizzard!  Why dontcha throw something hard our way for once, eh?  BRING IT!”

And then, there was Ragnaros.  Back to the drawing board, guild!

Meanwhile, Cyspar ventured into Dire Maul last night with a group of familiar faces:  Mom’s mage, Dad’s priest, the S.O.’s druid, a guild tank and myself.  The family that plays WoW together dies mercilessly together… many, many times.  Our objective:  To attempt Cyspar’s epic Dreadsteed quest.

Much glass chewing ensued, mostly because I’d forgotten how hard it is to run 5-man instances when you’re not outfitted in epics.  Situations that would be a piece of cake for Sheara are near-deadly for Cyspar.  It doesn’t help that I’m still not used to playing a DPS class instead of a healer – I spent most of the run watching health bars go up and down, and panicking when the tank dropped below 20%.  “Oh crap!  Gotta heal him!   Bandage, bandage, banda… oh, wait, we have a priest.  And a druid.  Right.  Throw a freakin’ shadow bolt now and again, won’t you?”

In the end, we succeeded… barely.  We survived the summoning ritual – waves upon waves of imps and big ugly demons – and defeated the dreadsteed itself, but died at the stinky feet of his ugly demon companion.  The entire thing had me shrieking obscenities at my laptop while the S.O. looked on in something that came precariously close to amusement (but he knows better than to admit it).  Thankfully we were able to run back as a group and defeat the big guy, and now Cyspar has a flaming, pointy, demon-horsey.  Rawr!

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you do not have the required proficiency for that item

Over the weekend I went to the local hospital’s walk-in clinic for a follow-up on The Foot Fiasco ™.

The good news is:  It’s not broken!  Hurrah!  Apparently the tiny line they thought was a fracture is actually my little toe’s joint.  I have weird-looking toe bones.  Go figure.

The bad news is:  I have what’s called a crush injury or contusion, and the bruise will take the same amount of time to heal.  So, I can’t ditch the crutches just yet, and I’m under strict orders to keep it wrapped, keep it elevated, keep it iced.  I really overdid it last week, so I took another day off yesterday and planted my butt firmly on the couch.

Of course, being couch-bound for another day gave Cyspar ample time to reach 60!  Hurrah!  Now she’s working on the warlock epic mount quest.

I’m so adding this shirt and these stickers to my Christmas wishlist.

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pardon, your rant is showing

*big sigh*  The whole broken foot thing was nice for the first couple days.  In the recent past I’d contemplated the idea of taking a day off just for the hell of it, and voila, a forced vacation!  Sweet, right?

Well, not really.

Cyspar not only made it to level 57, but she kept on going and reached level 58 over the weekend.  I have to say, though, that’s the most I’ve accomplished, outside of going back to work.

It is maddeningly frustrating to not just be able to hop off the couch and do something without making an ordeal of it, and even when I’m up, I’m limited as to what types of activities I can do.  Anything that involves carrying stuff is out, since both hands are usually grappling with the dreaded crutches.  Also, anything that requires standing for long periods of time is difficult… I can make it through a 10 minute shower before my right leg starts to cramp.  And stairs are only to be used in emergencies, which is great, because our bathroom at home is – you guessed it – upstairs.

True to his nature, the S.O. has been incredibly helpful, but I’m ultimately frustrated because I want to have freedom of movement again!  Also, not to have to wear a baggie over my stocking-ed foot when it rains, because I’m certain the high fashion gurus will back me up when I say Hannaford grocery bags are so not what they’re wearing in Paris these days.

My coworkers have taken to calling me “Hopalong,” which would be funny if it weren’t so true.  My 15 minute break involves crutching to the bathroom and back – down the loooong hallway, through two sets of (heavy!) fire doors, and into the tiny bathroom stall.  Thankfully the coworkers have also been great about getting lunch ready for me (yay for the 3-minute microwavable meal), or filling up my water bottle at the cooler, and they’ve managed to ask me only sixteen gajillion times “how on earth did you break your foot?”  I wish I could say I was bungee jumping in the Grand Canyon and the cord broke, while I managed to land on only one foot – the broken one – heroically saving a puppy in the process.  Unfortunately the real answer is, “I fell because I’m a klutz.”

And I do feel a bit silly about that, because only little old ladies “have a fall” and break things, right?  A few more weeks of this, though, and I’ll be shaking my crutches at strangers on the street and mumbling incoherantly to myself.  Just put me in Depends and call me Eleanor.

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