Crap. Crap. Crap.

First, let me premise my post be saying I am NOT a morning person. Not. So not. It takes me a while to rev up the mental engines. A cup of coffee, a cozy kid-snuggle, some mindless e-mail reading and Raveling and I might be ready to get off the couch. Now, that said, a few weeks ago, in the morning, hubby took the dogs outside for their morning business and Ta-shi wandered up to the back deck where a bag of lovely smelling trash was residing, awaiting removal. I noticed her mad sniffing and oh so apparent desire to tear into said bag, and in a truly Neanderthal-ish and primal move made the physical equivalent to a hefty grunt by kicking the door to startle her from her intended course of action. It took a minute or two, but after walking away I noticed a distinct and sharp pain deep in the ball of my foot. It hurt. Bad. I got my trusty block of frozen spinach used for just such occassions and nursed the foot most of the day. Although I didn't kick that hard, I must have hit it just right. The foot seemed to recover after a day or so and all was well until this morning. Once up from the couch, coffee coursing through my veins, I became obsessed with cleaning and decluttering and after about an hour of such began to feel that foot pain once again. (SEE why i don't clean?) Crap! What have I done? I am sitting here now, foot in the air, imagining a hairline fracture and fretting BECAUSE I CAN'T TAKE THE DOG FOR A WALK. Even with the grey, rainy day, I had every intention. We missed out yesterday (although Chewie got to play for hours with Coco and new friend Rosie, a gorgeous yellow lab pup) and it is so hard to develop a routine that I am freaking out. I'll nurse it a while and see how it feels later. Heck, the threat of loosing my walks could even make me go to the doctor.
In the meantime, paperwork for tax prep and Mr Greenjeans will be my companions.
dammnit.