Sorry, mom. I should have listened to the endless sermons about stretching before running, and wearing three layers, and eating bananas, because the day has come. The old broken toe has risen in rebellion. The shins have followed suit. The knees--oh, the knees!--are swollen and throbbing and little pieces of bone are playing touch-tag in the humours.
I guess the only thing a girl can do is sit in a chair with an ice pack and a pencil. And I can't even reach the speakers to turn down Mariah's new cd (now I wonder who turned that on?).
Darn.
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