The last four days have been filled to capacity. Friday’s walk the length of the Crossroads District resulted in a very lazy Saturday, which nonetheless ended with fireworks by the Scout in Pennway Park. On Sunday, I managed to break only a toe while spraining the foot to which it is attached.
But I endured and limped to Trader Joe’s for snackage. The lovely Ms. Vivian Leahy shared the first set of the Last Grateful Dead concert with me. After she’d bid me goodnight, I fell asleep halfway through the second set, awakening with a start just as the encore played and thanks were tendered to the crowd at Soldier’s Field.
After a four-hour mediation and an afternoon of developing settlement offers, I made it home a half-hour ahead of the storm’s fury. Now the rain has passed. I propped my leg on a pillow for most of the evening, but I walked around a bit, doing dishes and checking on my plants. The little foot has swelled again, and under its dark bruises, my toe throbs. I’m Clay-County bound in the morning, and I can’t for the life of me think what shoe will fit over my mangled right foot. But I’m not complaining. It could be so much worse. It has been so much worse. And it’s gotten so, so much better.