Cork! Cake! Crutches!

So, the first two there are pretty self-explanatory. Headed down to Cork on Saturday morning to help Christian move house and get some Cake for myself. Good Cake. Got some more this morning, too, before heading back. Very stupidly managed to drop a bloody huge battery on my foot. Screamed a bit. Swore a LOT. Sat down to examine the damage, breathing through the pain. Huh, nothing too bad there and, ahhhh, is it meant to bend like that? And have that much swelling? Maybe I've just got a touch of oedema, check the other foot. Nope. Other foot far less swollen, nowhere near as red or as hot. Bother. More swearing. Back to packing, it's not that bad, not really. Later still, breathing through the pain didn't work and neither did crying through it. Very little bruising, oh, well, maybe it's a tissue injury that just hasn't changed colour yet. Ah crap, I'm broken.

Still trying to decide if heading to A+E is a good idea. If it's broken there's little can be done except staying off it and filling up with painkillers. Which I'm doing, though I'd prefer to stay away from the ones wot come from poppies. Not going to work tomorrow and we'll see how things go after that. (Issues of passing the year may be talked of..) I reckon it's just a nasty bruise thing, and having the parents point out that hospitals are a) spendy (no health insurance and I'm as super broke as I've ever been) and b) somewhat crowded kinda sealed the matter. At least for tonight. Ah I'm fine once I'm off it, but not so much when I'm trying to walk. Thankfully I now have a Martha well trained up in how I like my coffee, so I'm fine to stay sitting on my bed, legs extended.

Wish I'd bought more Cake, though.