Nearly a month ago I tripped over a pipe cemented into our basement, dislocated and broke the big toe. Nurse at the doc-in-the-box told me I had to stop writhing in pain so they could take the BP or they’d refuse me treatment. But I got what I needed and have been wearing a brace since.
Had somebody at McD’s want a piece of me, following me around the store calling me a dirty fag, because I told the girls up in the play structure their shrieks were making my littlest cry. This unsettled me, but I think I handled it well: pushed it off on a wide-eyed 20-something manager, and left it alone.
One more thing, but I’ll post that separately. Let’s just say the roughest month (aside from finding Academie Prime had DS) after marriage is still way nicer than the best I remember from single life.