Flare Gun

I'm still around, I swear. Not much to report and I haven't been feeling very blogular lately.

Ankle injection treatments start a week from today, and I'm freaking the fuck out. If they don't work, my ankle is getting fused. Cue: freaking. Fingers crossed. I'd cross my toes, but if I could do that, I doubt I would need the shots in the first place.

back and forth with the same 1.8 / 0.2 lbs for the past few weeks. I'm getting annoyed. Not at anything in particular, just an overall "COME ON!". The 260's will happen soon, I hope.

There's a stupid transit strike going on here in London. That means I get to max out on activity points by walking over an hour to get home from my meeting on saturdays. Yeah, the points are nice but when you're doing that on a fucked up ankle instead of paying $30 for a cab home, it ain't so rosy.

For the record, I can't imagine making a minimum of $23/hr and striking because it's not enough, especially when I know a bunch of people out of work right now. I'll save my tirade about the role of the modern-day union for another day.

Time to typeset stuff, peace out.

XO
LB