Being a temporarily handicapped person is no fun at all.  It’s frustrating, it’s painful, it’s slow, it’s inconvenient.  Sitting at home watching new episodes of my trashy vampire series was one story, but commuting into the city is a different, and much less supernatural, story.

Ohhhh and the wardrobe maneuvers I’ve had to undertake have been fun.  Learning how to live one-footed has been a process.  Footwear is a whole new ball game.  At my office, not wearing heels is – how do I put this nicely – frowned upon.   On Tuesday morning, my Mom tried giving me some tips to make limping easier: strap on my bag (backpack perhaps?), wear sneakers, and use a crutch. Not even two crutches.  Just one.  What is that? A cane attempt? A crutch attempt?  An attempt to get myself laughed at, stoned, and fired?

I just stood (one-footed) in my kitchen and stared at her while my thoughts tried to catch up to my ibuprofen-flooded, purple, blue and exhausted body geared up to haul itself around miliions of pushy New Yorkers.

Packing lunch wasn’t really an option.  Besides, it wouldn’t have been able to fit in my newly aquired, post-accident, fanny pack my Mom was strapping on me as I hobbled out the door.

Coffee with soy milk

Breakfast and lunch were grabbed at my caf.

Whole wheat english muffin, PB, & strawberries

And dragging my heavy DSLR in to take pictures of my meals? Hahahahahahaha.  No.

I don’t usually say blasphemous things like this, but that salad was gross.

Chobani honey and strawberries

Peppermint tea.

YOU GUYS. I just realized. It’s almost PEPPERMINT SOY MISTO SEASON. Also known as the season for squandering money on things I shouldn’t be squandering so much money on.

I got home and my parents had set out some cheese and crackers for our neighbors who stopped by.  I had a few Mary’s Gone crackers with muenster.

What is this mess?  This salad made up for my lunchtime salad. It had baby radishes, avocado, and gorgonzola cheese.  All delicious things.

Also, in honor of the US Open, I had some tennis racket pasta.  Naturally.

I am guzzling some wine and drinking my one-legged, fashion-less, fanny pack sorrows away.

Fanny packs. For or against? 

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