Lame
No. Not my horse. Me.
I was leading my young percheron horse from barn to round pen. Full-of-himself percheron on the lead line in my right hand. Long lines and longing whip in my left. Matilda-the-tenacious-heeler—self-emancipated just seconds ago from the confines of the fenced yard and restored to her God-given place as the boss of Toby—trotting behind the big horse with all the pertinacity of a sucker fish glued to a great white shark.
Near the round pen, my left foot finds what is most likely the only hole for miles around, and sticks there. Toby and Matilda proceed onward. I lose my balance, fall, and twist my ankle in a way nature never intended.
As a result, I spent the weekend like this, entertaining—as BusyMom recently did—ideas of getting myself one of these while also wondering when I will ever learn not to try to do everything at once …
Luckily, no broken bones, but I am on crutches for a week and yesterday even motored up and down the aisles of the Wal-Mart (Where I actually saw a made-in-China version of one of these for a much better price, by the way.) on one of those little electric carts complete with both forward and reverse gear.
The doc says 4 to 6 weeks to heal completely.
Very lame.
Flickr photo credits: Littlefoot mek ; Claude@Munich
