On Sunday, completely out of the blue, my foot started hurting. Today I figured I could walk a little so I went out to the post office to mail Stephen the watch he forgot. That was enough to convince me that no, I cannot walk. Considering we’re going away next week overnight, this might be a bit of a problem.
Who wants to hear my self-diagnosis? It seems I have no choice but to come up with a diagnosis myself since I can’t get to a doctor until next week. (It seems there must be a whole lot of people with foot pain, eh?) I say it’s Plantar fasciitis. Of course we won’t know whether or not I’m right until Tuesday but I’m putting my money on that.
I did manage to hobble down to the basement to do the laundry. It was there that I discovered that lye may not have an indefinite shelf life. Some lye decided to make an escape from its jail cell (aka little plastic container). It then dripped down to a few other items. Luckily, there wasn’t too much damage. Darn, one of the things it ate away at was an iron! Oh, well. Now I can’t iron any clothes. That is such a shame.
My basement now smells of vinegar because I poured that on all the spots where the lye leaked out to neutralize it. I guess there are worse things it can smell of.
