Ticket Stub

I stubbed my toe today. I walk around very fast, even before I’ve decided where to go, and this afternoon my little toe on my left foot collided with the leg of a stool.

I did what anyone would do in this situation. I hopped around and swore and railed against the pain until it subsided.

Waggling my toe around now, many hours later, it doesn’t feel quite right. Have I broken it, I wonder? And what else can one stub, other than a cigarette?

I’m writing very late at night even though I have to be up early. My sleeping has been more borked than usual of late, as falling asleep before midnight sees me awake at 1:30. I am self-medicating with many things: books, cartoons, engineering podcasts. But nothing seems to work.

What I really need is a means to burn off some of the reserves of physical and mental fat I build up in fallow periods. But I don’t have many to fall back on right now. I’m isolating due to some associates testing positive for Covid; and all I really want to do is swim in the sea.

Talking of swimming: I’m doing a sponsored swim (is that the right phrase?) in memory of my awesome grandma. It’ll be cold, there’ll be too many people there, and it’s professionally organised, earnest, and for a really good cause. I’ll hate it. Please give generously.

Published by jamesofwalsh

My past blogs haunt the internet like ghost ships on a digital sea.

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