I am not having fond thoughts about my husband at the moment. Murderous thoughts would be a better description.*
Moving along swiftly….
My feet have been really sore recently. Not being one to complain much (yeah right!) I didn’t want to say anything, what with the almost-amputated toe and all (toe is much better!). But I’ve had a lot of pain in the arches of both feet. At first I thought it had something to do with the sore toe, gangrene perhaps, or even gout, but then I read a little online and I don’t think it is that. I’ve booked an appointment for Wednesday with the podiatrist, but in the meantime I had a chat to the physio today (gawd, I am SUCH a hypochondriac! If I am not at my therapist, I am at my physio. I am pathetic).
Anyway, my physio was poking and prodding around my feet and she says she doesn’t think it is gangrene or leprosy. Or gout. She asked me a whole lot of questions about whether anything had changed recently and I said no. She then asked if I wore decent shoes and I told her that actually, I had just recently bought my first pair of proper ‘orthopaedic’ shoes. (can you spell M I D D L E A G E D!) and she said AHA! Apparently the shoes I bought could be the cause. German shoes. Damn those Germans! Something about a high instep, made for people with flat feet (I have high arches) and hairy armpits. They are too broad for my feet etc etc. Can you believe that! I finally succumb to comfort over form (Marko is horrified that I bought granny shoes) and they make my bloody feet sore! I am such an asshole. I know this will make my sister laugh. She likes to laugh at my misfortune. She isn't a very nice person inside. Don't be fooled by that happy-clapping, hymn-singing shit.
The worst thing is that I didn’t even buy the bloody shoes for their ‘orthopaedic’ qualities; I bought them because the colour perfectly matched with my comfy sweatpants. Life can be incredibly cruel sometimes.
*Plus he is sick at the moment. Man Flu. An almost life-threatening debilitating affliction. Husbands are painful at the best of times. Sick husbands are like an ingrown toenail squished inside a pointy shoe worn to a cocktail party. Or like German orthopaedic shoes. PAINFUL!