No, that’s not grammatically incorrect – I do, in fact, have an old sole. Actually, I should say soles plural. I know I’ve discussed the advanced aging of my actual soul before, but today I’m specifically referring to my poor little feet. Not only have I been previously diagnosed with Bunions, Plantar Fasciitis, Bone Spurs and Arthritis of the foot (and have been sporting s.e.x.y. orthotics since my early twenties) – I now apparently have a neuroma in my left foot, which explains the significantly increased amount of whinging I’ve been participating in recently.
Thanks to a trip to see my Chiropodist (pronounced somewhere between Sure-opodist and Shear-opodist) my left foot is all taped up and I’m walking more foolishly than usual.
I had planned on blogging today about my magnificent evening at the Circus last night – but instead, I will show you a picture of my foot all taped up, next to some shoes I love. I feel like some retail therapy will lift my spirits!