The summer might be passing me by. I have very little to show for it but a laundry-list of complaints.

I have been overcompensating for the tendinitis in my right foot by placing more weight on my left. Now both feet are throbbing.

I know what I need to do — keep popping pain killers, icing it down when I can, taking Epsom salt baths, and keeping off my feet. Which is virtually impossible! Just to walk out of my apartment complex to get to signs of life I need to walk about five blocks. Yesterday I stuck to my neighborhood: I had brunch, ran errands, cut my hair, shopped, and returned home. It’s not like I can take a cab fifty yards. All together I probably walked fifty blocks around the East Village. Later that night I had to walk about 20 blocks in Brooklyn, and another 20 to get home from the F train.

Here I am today: popping pain killers, listening to music and watching the rain fall from my desk. The view from my bedroom (below) is beautiful, at least. But I had big plans, which have taken a back seat to the grogginess of pain killers and the inability to walk.

If I sound stuck, it’s because I am.


One response to “Stuck

  1. Pingback: Ironic Fortune Cookie « Subway Philosophy

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