Pain

is now physical. On my way to dinner with my friend Alison and her friends I tripped and fell and twisted my ankle. It hurt, but a couple of guys came and helped me up and I thought it was ok. During dinner -- with Alison, a friend of hers, Stacey and her male friend, whose name I forget even though he was holding a bucket of ice over my foot for part of the night -- was nice. After a couple of drinks at the bar we decided to go to Balthazar to join another friend, but when the others saw my swollen foot they decided that I should absolutely not walk with my high heels to the next place and so I came home. Now I am sitting here, staring at my hugely swollen foot, trying to soothe the pain with ice (and wine) and I am feeling sorry for myself again...hope it's not broken or fractured, last thing I need is a cast. Brother is out on date, Gyurka is gone; I am supposed to go and buy cleaning stuff tomorrow morning for Patricia, the illegal Mexican lady from the basement whom I hired to clean our flat, and I really wanted to go to the gym. AND I got dumped. Did I mention that?