I’m from here. No, really.

So… because I can’t NOT injure myself in random (yet significant) ways, I managed to take off a tiny chunk of skin from one of my toes. (Don’t ask how… it involves an overdue pedicure and a dog, but I don’t want to place blame here). (Also, I’m not naming toes because it’s not a super important toe)

Anyway… I’m walking through the streets of New York (because when I’m here I like to pretend I’m a New Yorker) (also, I’m fully aware no one is buying that…but I still like to play the game) and my toe is kind of killing me. I don’t want to limp, because I feel that somehow it will make me look like a tourist (again, I’m aware) or a homeless person, so I just cowgirl up and walk through the pain.

I’m so focused on my “I’m really a New Yorker and not a tourist or homeless person” walk, that I forget to look down.

Tonight’s agenda:

Look for bandaids

Leave socks out to dry

Get online and see if anyone delivers boots (think New York here, NOT Texas) AND wine.

Note: This was written a year ago. Since then, I have found I don’t have to try to “pretend I’m a New Yorker”, which is pretty cool. I also bought a pair of waterproof boots. Don’t get too excited – I still broke the zipper on my parka, which means I now have to step IN to my coat to put it on. And I stepped in a plate of pizza on the walk home last night (okay, I’m not 100% certain it was pizza, but I may just buy new boots)

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