Did I write about this?

I had to go look because I couldn't remember. Then it occured to me that I'd sent something to George about it. I sent this:

Last weekend, our relatively new but high mileage washing machine broke down. The Maytag repairman stopped by to check it out. By the way, he doesn't look anything like the commercials. No spiffy, spotlessly clean uniform. No hat. Just greasy jeans and a t-shirt. And I have no reference of comparison for 'plumber's crack' since they don't show that on TV.

Mary chose a new washer up at Home Depot. It's supposed to be delivered sometime this morning. So in preparation for that, Jordan and I took the old one out last night. It hung up on the carpet. I pulled hard to free it, but when it popped up, I lost my grip and dropped it on my big toe. Expletive! Expletive! Expletive! Jordan wanted to take me to the hospital. I declined somewhat forcefully. It's not broken, but it really hurt. This morning, it's still hurting and it's black and blue, but it's not swollen like a sausage.

That was yesterday. I was tempted to post a photo in order to elicit more sympathy, but I'll spare you. Let's just say that it's improving but it looks awful. The worst part is that I need the big toe for balance, and it's surprising to discover just how often I bang my foot against something. I've been walking with a cane to help with stability. It slows me down too, so I'm less inclined to roll my foot.

The washer landed just ahead of the main joint. There's a noticeable line across it. The pain has spread well up into the foot at times, and even my leg muscles are stiff and sore from the change in my gait. My biggest fear is that I'll get night cramps in that foot. The pain would be extreme.

Yes, I'm such a whiner! George, however, was gracious. He's in more pain that me.

Riding a bike is impossible, of course. I was hoping to ride to work this week if my schedule gets back to normal. Driving isn't one of my favorite things, but if it makes the difference between getting up at 4AM rather than 3AM, I'll drive, thank you.

Now, if you've managed to stay with me through all that, I have a favor to ask. Since my laptop shuffled off its mortal coil two weeks ago, I lost all my address information. I need to rebuild it. Just click on the email link on my profile page (and don't worry about it going to Wally. We keep in touch.) your address will appear almost magically in my in-box! Imagine that.

When I thought about it, I began to wonder if the washing machine and laptop had formed some kind of murder/suicide pact, and their spirits are now off living in sin in some machine Utopia.