Too Much Time on My Hands… (funky dance…)

So, I have this problem.

On Wednesday, I got a text from my dad saying that my grandpa –  his dad – wasn’t doing too well.  Grandpa’s a tough cookie, but he’s been in and out of the hospital a bit, and we’re worried about him. So I worried. (I do that well.)

So, rather than sit at home and bite my nails, I decided to take out my frustrations in a more productive, kinetic fashion. I put on my cheap, Velcro D.I. tennies and went running. Now, I’m not a runner. So when I tell you that I ran for 20 blocks, you should be very, very impressed. As was I, initially. But as I turned around and walked/limped home, I started to think I might have pushed myself a bit too far. My suspicions were confirmed by the pain in my right foot the next morning. I limped around the office during the day, then came home and patiently suffered while my dad wrapped my foot in ice and tried to convince me that ibuprofen is not of the devil.

Which leads me to my actual problem. It’s not my foot; that will heal. My problem is that I have the attention span of a gnat on LSD. As I lay there on the bed with my foot propped up, I had only two sources of comfort: a history textbook and my brother’s iPad. Well, I’ve spent a good deal of time on facebook, and I have no unread emails, and John Adams has just slipped quietly out of office as Jefferson takes the presidency. And I am so bored, I feel like I’ve been watching a documentary on the drying of paint for the past twenty-four hours.

My attention span wasn’t great before my mission. Generally speaking, the words, “Look! Something shiny!” end in a dramatic double-take, and a lost train of thought. Now add to that a year and a half of absolutely zero free time, talking with every single person who will look at me, in an east-coast culture that expects fast food to be in hand before the order is even finished… I may have some unrealistic expectations here. Isn’t life supposed to fling stimuli at me willy-nilly? No? Oh. Hmm…

My foot still hurts, which means I’m still trying to stay off of it. Which means I’m going to have way too much time on my hands this weekend. Consider yourself warned, Public. Stuff gonna ‘splode.


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