Wednesday, November 2, 2011

My Husband is such a gem, and so is my mom.

This weekend has been hectic.

We moved over all the rest of our stuff to the new house. We had a cleaning crew come through the old house in hopes of getting at least half of our deposit. All of the utitlities are off in the old house. I've started unpacking and I realized I'm going to need to do some organizing if I want to get my stuff put away. I have made an "unpacking plan" which I have titled "Mission: Move-In." It's got a contents page, and is currently 11 notebook pages.

Either way, on Monday night, I felt like I'd pulled a leg muscle and asked Eric to massage my leg. Since he's a good guy, he was very nice and massaged my leg for me and then says to me that my toes look... "not fat, because that's not the right word."

"Swollen, you mean?" I asked.

"Yes, swollen," he replied.

Thank you, Eric, for your wonderful choice of words.

For the record, the last two days, I've been staring at my toes. Maybe they've always been sausage-like and I've never noticed. Maybe they are swollen and I need to hydrate better and put my feet up. Since this concerned me, I called someone that's known me from birth - my mom.

"Have my toes always looked like sausages?" I texted her. After about 2 minutes, she texted me back.

"Vienna sausages."

Thanks, Mom.

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