Liz Erk (lizerk) wrote,
Liz Erk


I HATE February. Absolutely HATE it. It's the worst month in the world for me. I'm typically hit hard with winter depression at this time of year and I usually gain weight and lose all motivation for anything.

This year Sarah and I decided to try and kick the month off to a positive start by taking a quick trip down to Florida to visit her Dad. Sarah went down on the 3rd and I joined her on the 5th. (Her job is a lot more generous with time off than mine) We flew down on JetGay, er, I mean JetBlue. (They may as well have had all the staff waving rainbow flags. I've never seen so many gay men and lesbians working at one airline, it was awesome!) I thoroughly enjoyed watching VH1 Classics on the DirectTV screen in the seat back in front of me and for about 3 hours after I arrived in Tampa my mind was haunted by Bonnie Tyler... "I need a herooooo...!!" (How 'bout those neon cowboy whips?)

The visit was WAY too short... I woke up on Friday and went for a 7 mile run, then jumped in the pool, then went to brunch, followed by my first time playing golf ever! Sarah's Dad bought me golf shoes and a glove and Sarah's stepmom got me a great golf shirt and baseball hat. Sarah and I spent 4 hours on the driving range and I did pretty well, except that I REALLY lose patience quickly when I don't get something perfect right away. I'd swing and miss the golf ball repeatedly while the old people around me chuckled. Jerks.

The next day I went running again, except that halfway through I came off of a curb wrong on my left foot. I spent the last 3 miles running in absolute agony. By the time I got back to the house I could barely walk and when I took off my left shoe I found that the entire left side of my foot was one HUGE bruise.

Sarah, her stepmom and I went shopping soon after my run and that was utter HELL. I couldn't walk without a terrible limp. At one point they stuck me at a table near a coffee shop and left me with all of the bags. Unlike Boston, people apparently aren't used to seeing an individual with a lot of shopping bags because every two minutes someone felt the need to comment on them. "Wow, do you think you cleaned out the mall?" Or "Are there any stores you didn't hit?"

Maybe it was my throbbing foot, but by comment number 5 I was less than amused. "Wow, do you think you bought enough?"

"Wow, do you think you are funny?" I snapped back.

The rest of the trip was pretty quiet after that. My damn foot was absolutely HUGE by Sunday. I couldn't walk anywhere, so Sarah drove me around everywhere in her stepmom's car:

Our quick getaway really helped, except I'm a little worse for wear. The way I get through the winter with my sanity intact is by working out. I can't do anything at all still. My foot's no longer swollen and purple, but it still really hurts. So I'm a little grumpy. Just call me Gimpy McLimp. UGH. I hope my foot gets better. This is TORTURE.

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