It seemed perfectly ok at the time; I even walked on it back into the house to start the arnica protocol, and then went on to finish what I had been doing, after which I sat myself down with an ice pack and a book and elevated my foot. Only to my sad surprise, my ankle not only hasn't gotten any better, six hours later it is actively worse.
First it got
So anyway. I was minding my own business in one room, not really paying attention to the murmuring pitter-patter of the television coming from the other room, when suddenly I heard a woman's voice shout, "Am I in MENOPAUSE? You bet I am!!!" Whooooaa!!!! And then, of all things, she started singing the praises of JACK IN THE BOX!!! You know, the hamburger joint.
"When I'm having hot flashes...." she began, and I can't really say what came next, because she pretty much lost me after that. Actually, Jack in the Box pretty much lost me after that one. Not that I go there with any degree of regularity whatsoever....Ok, ok, to be honest, on the survey I would have to check the "less often than once a year" box, but still. Now I'm going to have to check the "less often than less often than once a year" box.
I'm thinking this little episode basically documents what I have been increasingly afraid of the last few years, and getting worse all the time: There are no limits to indecency anymore, and no limits on where you might witness it. I would like, just once in awhile, to go someplace where I am not assaulted by somebody's perverse notions of open-minded self-expression.
In fact, as I'm writing this, I hear that the tv has moved on to a "sitcom" in which a group of men and women are talking about, what else, menopause. Sigh. Excuse me while I
Menopause...Jack in the Box...What can the connection possibly be???