That there's a quote from the Joker instead of Batman, because I'm feeling a little purplish. This picture's a few days old, and I can assure you my foot is whole lot more black and blue, although the swelling has gone down a ton:
I'm healing very fast, which means that either the doctor was mistaken about the severity of my sprain or I've got Wolverine-like healing abilities. I've been able to walk without crutches for the past few days, getting around fairly well. My foot is still too swollen on which to jam a shoe, so I've been set up with the glorious sartorial choice of a running shoe on my left foot and an Ace wrap, gel splint and sandal on my right. I may be crippled, but at least I get to look stupid while being so.
The good news—and it is good news—is that it's been a week since I've smoked. This has made for topsy-turvy moods, and, since I haven't been able to exercise as an outlet, that topsy-turviness mainly trends toward bitchiness. My commute to work, a normally 20-minute affair chock-full of some of the dumbest drivers in the state ("Hold on a sec, rush hour traffic. I'm-a turnin' my Hummer into the Chick-Fil-A parkin' lot. Nows, I know the drive-through is full, so you'll jus' haveta wait while I stick out into the road for 10 or 15 minutes to get me a chicken sammich. These colors don't run."), which has, in my nicotine-deprived state, turned my vehicle into a maelstrom of creative profanity. But I've been good! I haven't cheated once (what we perennial ex-smokers call "chipping"), and I've done it without the patch or Zyban or any of the crap I used in recent attempts. I've reason to be proud for that, and I'll be much happier when I can actually start exercising again.
Tonight I'm going to attempt whatever sort of core workout I can manage without stressing my ankle. I assume this will include push-ups and sit-ups and, I don't know, hopping up and down on one leg, or something. But I've been eating like a crazy person, and it's time to start working some of it off. Go-go setback.