I am styling out in my cam walker, which if you happen to see me for the next two weeks I will be wearing for the sake of healing.
Apparently I strained a ligament in my ankle. There was some fancy name for which part that I'm sure all you doctor type people would say, "OHHHHHHHHHHH." But you will have no such luck from my addled brain.
The process was a bit strange, since I picked this up not at my doctor's office, but some
provider of junk like this and other fake body parts. I limped in and told them my situation. The woman working at the front was like, "Your order was FAXED in?" The word faxed said like it was an impossible feat unknown to man. She then fumbled around helplessly until she revealed to me that she wasn't actually the person who worked the front. That person was getting some lunch.
After the person who knew what was going on came back, she handed off the info to the person I began talking to, who was the person who actually got me fit with my boot... I guess I should look at her card so I actually know what position she held.
Anyway, next thing I know she's trying to find a boot that fits me because I have "thick calves." I think she could've just said, "because you're fat" and my feelings would not have been hurt.

Now it is boot city as she ran back to try to find one that fit me. And much like Cinderella mixed with Little Red Riding Hood I found a boot that was juuuust right.
After strapping me in, I asked the all important question, "Um, can I drive with this thing on?"
Her reply, "Hrm, can you? I don't think I'd recommend it."
Now, I know I challenge when I hear one. So, you know what I did next.
...
The sensible thing and took off the stupid boot while I drove back to work. So, if you happen to make plans with me in the next two weeks, expect me to be late, especially if I'm driving myself... as I will be re-booting when I get out of my car.