Seriously, what is with my feet and plane trips?

Today was an excellent day, and a crappy evening.

We're leaving at oh-god-thirty tomorrow morning for Portland for AmberCon Northwest. I got through my list with relative speed, folding four baskets worth of laundry (even though my list only required me to fold the two that were full of my own clothes), packing for myself (CJ gets the other half of the suitcase), etc. I noted that I took up significantly more than half of the suitcase, so I also emptied the larger suitcase that was full of John's stuff from his AstriCon trip last week... just so that if we had packing issues, we would be able to deal with it painlessly, instead of having it turn into a last-minute crisis. I printed our boarding passes, noting that I was so awesome that I signed up for the Early Bird check-in with Southwest early enough to score us A19 & 20 (I had forgotten about it until a few days ago, but when I went to purchase them on Tuesday, I discovered that we'd already done it, and CJ swears he did not, so I must've done it long ago and forgotten).

I cleaned out my car so we wouldn't have to do it at 4 in the morning after arguing over who would have to drive. I got cash, and got a little extra in case CJ didn't make it to the bank to get some for himself. I was on top of my game. I even had a little bit of time to spend playing a silly little game I'm addicted to, which I totally didn't expect to get to do today. I did a few things from the General To-Do list that didn't have to be done Before We Leave, because I was that far ahead of the curve.

Then CJ called and said he was going to be home late, because he had a flat tire. I gave him the number for the local service station that I know has a tow truck, because I have no idea where my AAA card is (must fix that). He called back a bit later and John picked it up. Then John came upstairs and said "I'm going to go rescue CJ" because the service station said "If you think you're going to need to replace the tire, you're better off going to one of the tire places nearby, because they'll be a much better deal." We decided that we should both go, and then stop for dinner, because I hadn't gotten far enough in the "on top of my game" planning to prepare anything to eat.

The tow truck driver was prompt, polite, and competent, which is the single best combination you can get in a tow truck driver. We went to Logan's, because I was jonesing for some of their bread. Logan's had a long wait, and John was hungry and cranky, so we went over to Applebee's next door instead. And, of course, on the way out of Logan's, I tripped over my own feet (and the corner of the flower bed, but it wasn't the flower bed's fault) and landed face-first on the pavement. My knee was absolutely killing me, but careful probing indicated that it was probably just a bruise. A few minutes of deep breathing, and I was ready to get back up, and other than making John drive me to Applebee's instead of walking across the parking lot, we were good to go.

John is a sweetheart and dropped me off at the door so I wouldn't have to walk as far. While we were waiting for the hostess, I said quietly to CJ, "I think I wrenched my foot too, because it's starting to hurt." Sure enough, by the end of the meal, my knee was mostly okay and my foot was screaming in pain. So far, there's been ice, ibuprofen, hot tubbing, and right now I'm back to more ice. And unless a minor miracle occurs while I'm sleeping, it looks like I'm going to get to go through the wheelchair line at security tomorrow. Again.

Seriously, what is with my feet and plane trips?

Today was an excellent day, and a crappy evening.

We're leaving at oh-god-thirty tomorrow morning for Portland for AmberCon Northwest. I got through my list with relative speed, folding four baskets worth of laundry (even though my list only required me to fold the two that were full of my own clothes), packing for myself (CJ gets the other half of the suitcase), etc. I noted that I took up significantly more than half of the suitcase, so I also emptied the larger suitcase that was full of John's stuff from his AstriCon trip last week... just so that if we had packing issues, we would be able to deal with it painlessly, instead of having it turn into a last-minute crisis. I printed our boarding passes, noting that I was so awesome that I signed up for the Early Bird check-in with Southwest early enough to score us A19 & 20 (I had forgotten about it until a few days ago, but when I went to purchase them on Tuesday, I discovered that we'd already done it, and CJ swears he did not, so I must've done it long ago and forgotten).

I cleaned out my car so we wouldn't have to do it at 4 in the morning after arguing over who would have to drive. I got cash, and got a little extra in case CJ didn't make it to the bank to get some for himself. I was on top of my game. I even had a little bit of time to spend playing a silly little game I'm addicted to, which I totally didn't expect to get to do today. I did a few things from the General To-Do list that didn't have to be done Before We Leave, because I was that far ahead of the curve.

Then CJ called and said he was going to be home late, because he had a flat tire. I gave him the number for the local service station that I know has a tow truck, because I have no idea where my AAA card is (must fix that). He called back a bit later and John picked it up. Then John came upstairs and said "I'm going to go rescue CJ" because the service station said "If you think you're going to need to replace the tire, you're better off going to one of the tire places nearby, because they'll be a much better deal." We decided that we should both go, and then stop for dinner, because I hadn't gotten far enough in the "on top of my game" planning to prepare anything to eat.

The tow truck driver was prompt, polite, and competent, which is the single best combination you can get in a tow truck driver. We went to Logan's, because I was jonesing for some of their bread. Logan's had a long wait, and John was hungry and cranky, so we went over to Applebee's next door instead. And, of course, on the way out of Logan's, I tripped over my own feet (and the corner of the flower bed, but it wasn't the flower bed's fault) and landed face-first on the pavement. My knee was absolutely killing me, but careful probing indicated that it was probably just a bruise. A few minutes of deep breathing, and I was ready to get back up, and other than making John drive me to Applebee's instead of walking across the parking lot, we were good to go.

John is a sweetheart and dropped me off at the door so I wouldn't have to walk as far. While we were waiting for the hostess, I said quietly to CJ, "I think I wrenched my foot too, because it's starting to hurt." Sure enough, by the end of the meal, my knee was mostly okay and my foot was screaming in pain. So far, there's been ice, ibuprofen, hot tubbing, and right now I'm back to more ice. And unless a minor miracle occurs while I'm sleeping, it looks like I'm going to get to go through the wheelchair line at security tomorrow. Again.