Sprained Ankle

This is the most severe ankle sprain I’ve ever had. I’ve nursed it for a week now, and it’s still painful.

Whitey called me from the make line tonight, frantic with a huge order and no backup. His exact words: “We need to hire someone who starts  TOMORROW, and if they could start tonight that would be fantastic.”

8 strombolis, 8 pizzas, 5 orders of breadsticks for one party + the regular business.

I was sitting in the La-Z-Boy with my stupid foot elevated with stupid ice on it, and honestly, was glad to hear that they needed help. I jumped in the truck and was there in two minutes.

I received the obligatory “you shouldn’t be here” talk, and then Whitey realized that it was imperative that we had two people on the make line and one on ovens. We were busy. Like, really busy.

I took my first delivery near the golf course, on the far side of town. I drove back (with a very cool detour due to the City doing repair on the underpass) and gathered another delivery for the same side of town. I hobbled up the sidewalk in my air-cast and dropped off the order, got in the van, and?

Nothing.

It wouldn’t start.

Sweet. I tried it again. And again. And again.

I finally called the restaurant and Kris headed out to pick me up. I thought about all of the people on the side of the road who I see with incapacitated vehicles — they have the hoods up and look like they’re fixing stuff, right? So I popped the hood and pretended to play with cables.

Because I knew that the people who I had delivered to were peering out the window, I then tried to start the van again.

POW! It started! I must have amazing mechanic skills.

I got back to work and shared my miraculous story. It fell on deaf ears, as there were still numerous tickets on the line and two more deliveries waiting for me.

“EWWWWWwwww,” said Front Gal, while pointing at my foot. “It’s purple!”

Whitey glanced over and admitted, “Yeah, that’s not sexy at all. You need to go home.”

What? My feet are HOT!

I had to admit that the swelling was ridiculous, not to mention painful. I double-checked the line and realized that yes, they probably could handle it, and left moments later.

This photo was taken about an hour ago. I need so so SO badly for the swelling to come down and the pain to subside. I need to work again. Whitey is working too much, and I’ve worked way too little.

Not to mention that I’ve burned through every bad TV show we had recorded on the DVR.

CSI NY episodes from 2004 don’t cut it anymore.