11/24/15. The post where I win.

11/24/15: my foot and I have had an uneasy truce for the last couple of weeks.  It has been daring me to give it a reason to act out, but so far I haven't taken the bait.  Other than a few brief flare ups due to weather changes, I have felt surprisingly well.  But the holidays are coming and I am switching into full-on action figure mode. Which never goes over well.

This Thanksgiving is a special one. For the first time in our relationship, my patient, long-suffering husband and I do not have a three day music festival to produce the week after Thanksgiving.  Which means we can actually celebrate, instead of racing to a family member's home, scarfing down a meal, and racing back to work.  So this year we are hosting a dinner.  A small dinner.  I'm talking small. http://youtu.be/YYtTb23PIAs  

But even a small Thanksgiving dinner requires a large trip to the grocery store and a lot of space in the fridge.  And neither one of us was looking forward to cleaning out the fridge or braving the crowds at the store, so we had already put off both tasks several times.  Unfortunately for me, my patient, long-suffering husband thought more quickly than I did.  As I walked in the door after work, he met me with the news that he had already cleaned out the fridge.  And reminded me that he had a meeting tonight.  So, maybe I could do the grocery shopping? Well, crap.  

I finished putting together the list, had a little liquid courage, and steeled myself for the crush of humanity at the store.  I knew I would have a long walk in from the parking lot and then a long trip through the store, so I put on a comfortable pair of shoes.  Then I got in the car and drove to the store, where I found...a ghost town.  Seriously.  The parking lot was nearly empty and I pulled into the spot closest to the door.  I checked my phone to make sure I hadn't missed the end of the world.  I walked in and sped down the aisles, exchanging furtive glances with the few other shoppers in the store who also could not believe their good fortune.  I went to the checkout, where nearly every lane was empty and the bored cashiers were practically begging me to pick them.  Best.  Shopping trip.  Ever.  Within 45 minutes, I was back home and all the groceries were in the freshly cleaned fridge.  While part of me wanted to keep my patient, long-suffering husband in the dark about my lucky evening, the urge to gloat overcame me.  Looks like I won this round of the Thanksgiving chore wars.

It wasn't a total win.  Even with my unbelievably short trip, I came home with a foot that was red, swollen, and generally unhappy.  My foot hates grocery stores.  After thirty minutes of rest, though, it bounced back pretty well.  Considering the fact that I expected to still be at the grocery store at that time, it still felt like a win.  Here's hoping my luck continues for the rest of the holiday week.