Saturday morning, being the *ahem*ahem* marvelous daughter I am, I got up at 5:30 a.m. cooked a quick breakfast of eggs Benedict, and Belgian waffles, and then went to work with my Dad.
Ok so the whole eggs Benedict thing isn't true...they were just scrambled eggs.
Ok so I didn't cook breakfast at all, I just grabbed a Nutri-Grain Bar.
Anyways, (now that we've established I have an "overactive imagination") once me and my Dad arrived at the feed yard we fell into the normal routine:
1. Open Gates
2. Start Feed Trucks
3. Read Bunks
4. Daddy starts feeding
5. I feed horses...sometimes.
6. I get on Feed Tractor with Daddy to open Gates.
And it was after #6 that my morning order got terribly disrupted.
You see, usually I jump down from the tractor as graceful as a ballerina...there goes that overactive imagination again...and glide to the gate and thrust it open in order for Daddy to drive the Tractor through it.
Well this particular morning, every ounce of grace, and coordination I ever had, in my entire life left me...
When I jumped down from the tractor, I landed on un-even ground, twisted my weak ankles, and hit my knees....
I then proceeded to crawl around, crying like a baby, trying not to gag and/or faint.
My right ankle is now three times the size of my other one (severe cankle case) and is purple/blue, and tends to wiggle when I walk...which is quite often.
Now, if you have the strong urge to laugh, throw up, or never read my blog again, I'll completely understand.
I'm going to go soak my ankle in Epsom Salts now.
Peace, Love, & I am now anti-John Deere.